tion of humanity the leading truths of Christianity. Secondly, free from pompous expressions, obsolete terms, or laboured phraseology-simple, clear, varied, and impressive. It would perhaps be well that our philosopher should draw, sparingly, on the ranter, and the latter largely on the former. The happy medium lies between moving and exciting the passions: the one opens the understanding to the impressions of reason; the other destroys the reflective faculties, and renders the mind a passive machine. It has been said, and wisely, that an inferior discourse, well delivered, will produce better and more lasting effects than a good dis course, badly delivered.* This fact should lead our pulpit orators to look into their vocal resources; to pay some attention to the philosophy of music: to inquire whether the powerful effect produced by song, arises from any other cause than that of cultivation in the voice, and if so, whether speech, the basis of the latter, cannot be rendered musical. We say rendered musical, for we are persuaded that the elements of a fine intonation exist in all voices, where there is no organic malformation. We would have our clergy increase the power of their voices by a regular, daily system of vocal gymnastics-diminish its pitch and increase its volume. We have frequently observed them, in their efforts to fill a large church, increase the pitch, until the natural voice, forced beyond its highest note, has broken into that scream distinguished among musi. cians by the term falsetto. Loud and high are distinct conditions-nor can the force necessary to extend the voice be given to it when on a high range of pitch. The opening of the windpipe, termed the glottis, through which the breath passes, is then in a state of contraction; its dimensions, originally very limited, are consequently diminished; the volume of expired breath must necessarily be proportioned to the size of the cavity through which it finds egress: thus the quantity and force of sound will be less, although its pitch may be greater. The pulpit orator who would attract and hold the attention of his hearers, must study intonation, not in the closet, but in the walks of life; he must learn to distinguish between that in which feeling, and that in which thought is expressed; he must endeavor to obtain that low, deep, strong expression, which clothes the language of dignity and sublinity in the garb of grace and beauty. Let the voice once arrest and fix the attention of the ear, and your pulpit oratory, as if by enchantment, will start into existence, clothed with variety and power. Admiration and instruction will accom. pany each other; dulness and languor will give place to enrapt atten tion; the temples of religion will become the schools of eloquence-the halls of science-the pride of learning. America has a right to expect much from the ministers of her altars. The scholastic records of Europe are open to them: while the past awaits their improvement, the future should excite their ambition. Boldness of expression, freedom of thought, originality of investigation, are expected from them. They will be

IT is said that the celebrated Burke had an Alto voice; that in his charge against Warren Hastings, its high shrill tones rang through Westminster Hall; but that it was utterly destitute of those full, deep intonations, which would have clothed the sublime images of his fancy with grandeur and power; the richness and pureness of its literal eloquence were not sufficient to rivet attention; and those who, subsequently, admired the composition of the writer, slumbered under the oral monotony of the man.

sought after and listened to as they are found in unison with the improving spirit of the age. When we look at our vast territory in the West; to the resources which it offers the mechanic, the artizan, and the agriculturist-to the future millions of intelligent beings by which it must be peopled-when we reflect that it may be the Thermopyla of the universe the last asylum in which Religion shall repose under the protection of Freedom, we are involuntarily led to inquire whether our present system of theological education is calculated, either morally or physically, to fit its possessors for the fulfilment of their arduous duties in a newly-peopled world.

The mind cannot be vigorous while the body is feeble. They are too intimately connected, for the latter to be impaired without the former partaking in the derangement. The West calls for VIGOROUS Constitutions; men capable of suffering hardship and fatigue, who can proclaim the glad tidings of salvation in a temple with the earth for its foundation, and the trees of the forest for its canopy-whose habits of thought are strong and original. The pioneers of the wilderness, if not adepts in the refinements of society, are generally men of deep natural understanding. If they know not how to accomplish an object, they know when it is accomplished. Their criticism is that of nature, and it partakes of her purity and her power. It is among such a people that a large portion of our pulpit orators are destined to mingle. What an immense influence must they exert, either for good or evil, upon the future condition of these sons of freedom! We cannot separate the political from the moral condition of a community. The former, not regulated by, and dependent on the latter, cannot endure. It is the parent of anarchy and despotism. Its superstructure is rocked by the whirlwinds of passion-its foundations bathed in blood. History will illustrate this truth. The French revolution, with its goddess of Reason, tells the dreadful tale, in characters at which Humanity shudders, and at which Religion shrinks. We look for a brighter dawning on our western population. We anticipate the period when the wilderness and the solitary place shall be made glad under the exertions of our pulpit orators-when the voice of Reli gion shall echo from the Alleghany to the Rocky Mountains-when Commerce shall extend her renovating power over this immense tract— when the western waters shall bear on their bosoms the accumulated produce of nations, and when, in the fruition of these blessings, Christianity shall erect her altars, and appoint her ministers, amid the thanksgivings of a grateful people. We see that her ministers will be no sinecurists that they will neither tread the carpeted mansion, nor repose upon the bed of down-that they will have much, both in body and mind, to endure they will go on their way rejoicing, and ultimately, as the climax to their labors, sink to repose amid the veneration and regrets of a great people.

We cannot close our remarks without adverting particularly to our city-the Emporium of the United States. The heterogeneous character of its inhabitants seems to call for the utmost exertion of pulpit eloquence on all occasions. We are led to this remark, from having observed that many of our churches are closed on Sunday evenings, and

that a great portion of the residue are limited to prayer. The serious and pious portion of our population, we doubt not, will feel themselves called on, by principle and duty, to attend on this portion of religious service. But we know that they do not form the majority. It is in the evenings, particularly, that the young and thoughtless are led away to scenes of dissipation; it is at the close of the day that the first breaches are made in moral rectitude. It is then the foundation of guilt and infamy is begun that the corner-stone of future destruction is laid-and that those latent principles of moral duty which an eloquent and impressive sermon might have called into action, fall for ever before the first approaches of temptation. Should it be said that our clergy are too much wearied with the duties of the day, to minister in their churches during the evening, we answer, that the cause of such lassitude does not exist in the actual duties of the Sabbath, but in the want of similar exertion

during the week. Did they walk only on Sunday, and remain quiescent on other days, would not their feet tire? Most assuredly. It is to the want of a regular system of physical education, that they must look for the origin of that feebleness which incapacitates them for the needed discharge of their duties.

We would not wish to be thought severe in our remarks: the importance of the subject must furnish an excuse for the manner in which it has been treated. The character of our pulpit orators is sacred; their feelings are and ought to be respected. We are pleading with them for the cause of Christianity. We know the influence they exert is great-but weighed against that which they might exert, it is as a feather balanced against the universe. Let them consider the importance, the dignity, the majesty of their vocation; that they are the servants of Him whose greatness is unsearchable-whose understanding is infinite-who hath measured the ocean in the hollow of his hand-meted out the heavens with a span-comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure-weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance : that He who laid the foundations of Zion has planted them as the watchmen on the walls :-that to their care and vigilance is committed the destiny of present and future millions of rational and immortal beings. If there is any thing lovely in the sublime precepts of the gospel-if they enable their possessor to sustain, with meekness and serenity, the buffetings of a cold and heartless world—to triumph under the last agonies of mortality, in the future prospects which they open-then is there every inducement held out to our pulpit orators to PERFECT themselves for the fulfilment of their high and important mission. A universal diffusion of knowledge, unaccompanied by a thorough diffusion of the spirit of Christianity, we should consider an evil to our country. We wish not to see the goddess of Liberty seated on the throne of Infidelity, with Knowledge at her right hand and Religion at her feet-but rather to behold the former dispensing her blessings from the altars of Christianity, cheered by the benedictions of a grateful people. Infidelity is among us. Atheism has publicly proclaimed her creed within the circuit of our city. Shall she continue, with unblushing effrontery, to entice the young and misguided, by her eloquence, her artifices, and delusions? To our

Clergy it belongs to answer this inquiry. We will not anticipate them; satisfied that the cause in which they are engaged-the cause of themselves their Master-the Present, and the Future-will alike stimulate them to increased exertion. B.

LINES TO MY SISTER.

MID Summer's fresh-robed beauty or Winter's closing pall,
Thou'rt bound to me by changeless ties, unseen and holiest, all;
They're woven of remembered times!-they press about my heart,
Till tears record that teeming hour wherein my dream hath part.

Home! 'tis a fond and gushing sound, the yearning breast to fill,
When in our eyes by hearths away, its fire seems shining still;
And a Spirit sits beside us-lone and beautiful to see,
Whisp'ring of faces we have lov'd-whose name is Memory.

Thy days are early in the land-ah, not with them in power,
Dwell all the haunting images of thy first childhood's bower!
Yet gather round thee, ere the sweep of Time's ungentle wing,
Some blessed years, my sister, in thy forgetful spring.

From Pleasure's eager halls away, where thou art resting lone,
These with a smile shall visit thee, when other smiles are gone;
These with a stealing voice and fond-e'en for the past's dear sake—
Deep in thy bosom's silent shrine an echo shall awake.

Along the walk whence evermore familiar feet have fled,
Upon the seat where household eyes their loving-kindness shed,
Oh, meet me, meet me! I am there in visions blest and free,
Whene'er the twilight shadow falls upon the quiet sea.

There are wishes for thee on my lips, I would they might arise-
Availingly as fervently, up through the glowing skies!

That I might find some angel-face amid yon cloudless heaven,
And read thereon of gifts to thee henceforward to be given.

There should be light, young sister, from thy morning glances flung,
And only sober'd joyousness thine evening hours among;

And sunset should depart from thee and drop its golden beams,
To make a fairy beauty still around thy happy dreams.

Oh, life-that proud and passing thing-should compass thee with love,
All fantasies of riches or of festival above;-

And words which breathe it sweeter seem, than serenader's lute,
Waking the dreamy air, when birds beneath the leaves are mute.

Lo! the uncurtain'd stars look forth, the holy and the bright!

I am there in deepest thought of thee, my sister dear, to-night:
I forget the fading altars and the careless boons of earth,
And I fain would throne thy spirit where the star-light hath its birth.
WEST POINT.

A.

ORIGINAL LETTER FROM FLORENCE.

We have great pleasure in laying before our readers the following letter from a young American lady, lately residing at Florence. How we came by it, we do not feel at liberty to disclose: we assure the public, however, that we violate no confidence in its publication. Independently of its lively and amusing simplicity, it conveys, if we mistake not, an important moral to that class of females, who, sated with the amusements and luxuries of their own happy country, sigh for the fancied Elysium of Europe, as the rugged and primitive Europeans once did for the delights of oriental effeminacy. This sickly taste, founded on a false estimate of foreign countries, seems to be fast spreading among that class, whose example and influence descends more or less to every other, and who are most likely to bring home with them all the lumbering forms and distinctions of a state of society, of manners, and of government, totally inapplicable to our own.

To a man whose mind is ripened by education, experience and reflection, Travel opens a noble field for observation and improvement. Such an one will think before he feels, and reason ere he decides. The factitious distinctions of rank, the glittering gorgeousness of royalty, and all the splendid vestiges of feudal domination, will neither dazzle his eyes nor confound his understanding. He will look beyond these into the recesses of domestic life and manners, estimate the sum total of virtue and happiness which a nation presents, and if he finds it greater than that of his own countrymen, inquire into the sources of that superiority, with a view to the benefit of his native land. If he has cherished unfounded prejudices against any one nation, he will have an opportunity of correcting them; or if he has been cheated into an exorbitant admiration, by the delusions of his imagination, he can regulate his mind by the standard of reality. Opinions founded in truth, will be rendered more inflexible, and those generated in error eradicated, by the test of personal observation and experience. The probability is, therefore, that a man of virtue and intellect will return home from travel wiser and better than he went.

But it is likely to be far otherwise with the young, and inexperienced, and most especially with youthful females, whose imaginations have been influenced by a perusal of those mischievous novels, that now occupy the place of a higher species of litera ture; which give such exaggerated pictures of the splendors of high life, and gloss over with these glittering gewgaws, a state of manners and morals fatal to the sanctity of all the dearest ties of nature and society. Such a being will go abroad, anticipating she knows not what; with a mind swelled with ideas of some visionary creation that has no existence but in her own fancy; and with a sickly desire of mingling at any risk, and almost any price, with that titled society, of which all her studies have given her so inflated an idea. There is reason to fear that in such a state of mind, and with such feelings, she may be wrought upon to sacrifice the dignity of her sex, and the honor of her country, by seeking that society, at the expense of both. We have heard of more than one instance of this kind, and have sighed over a species of delusion, which like the Dragon in Revelations, draws one-third part of the stars from Heaven, and casts them to the Earth. The chances are, that young women who have spent some of the last years of their lives strolling from one European capital to another, will return home, with minds habituated to modes of life, that unfit them for the fulfilment of their highest destiny-that of becoming the wives and the mothers of a race of vigorous, independent men, and 'bonny lasses.'