Jesus Christ, like a God!" If he had been indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine. British Spy. THE POWER OF KINDNESS.1 I want to tell you a secret. The way to make yourself pleasing to others is to show that you care for them. The whole world is, like the miller of Mansfield, "who cared for nobody-no, not he -because nobody cared for him ;" and the whole world will serve you so if you give them the same cause. Let every one, therefore, see that you do care for them, by showing them what Sterne so happily calls "the small, sweet courtesies of life,"—those courtesies in which there is no parade, whose voice is too still to teaze, and which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks, and little, kind acts of attention,-giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, in the field, walking, sitting, or standing. This is the spirit that gives to your time of life and to your sex its sweetest charm. It constitutes the sum-total of all the witchcraft of woman. Let the world see that your first care is for yourself, and you will spread the solitude of the Upas-tree around you, and in the same way, by the emanation of a poison which kills all the kindly juices of affection in its neighborhood. Such a girl may be admired for her understanding and accomplishments, but she will never be beloved. The seeds of love can never grow but under the warm and genial influence of kind feeling and affectionate manners. Vivacity goes a great way in young persons. It calls attention to her who displays it, and, if it then be found associated with a generous sensibility, its execution is irresistible. On the contrary, if it be found in alliance with a cold, haughty, selfish heart, it produces no farther effect, except an adverse one. Attend to this, my daughter: it flows from a heart that feels for you all the anxiety a parent can feel, and not without the hope which constitutes the parent's highest happiness. May God protect and bless you! COMMON SENSE.2 This may Common sense is a much rarer quality than genius. sound to you a little paradoxical at first, but you will find it true; for common sense is not, as superficial thinkers are apt to suppose, a mere negative faculty: it is a positive faculty, and one of the highest power. It is this faculty that instructs us when to 1 From a letter to his daughter Laura. speak, when to be silent, when to act, when to be still; and, moreover, it teaches us what to speak and what to suppress, what to do and what to forbear. Now, pause a moment to reflect on the number of faculties which must be combined to constitute this common sense: a rapid and profound foresight to calculate the consequences of what is to be said or done, a rapid circumspection and extensive comprehension so as to be sure of taking in all the circumstances which belong to the case and missing no figure in this arithmetic of the mind, and an accuracy of decision which must be as quick as lightning, so as not to let the occasion slip. See what a knowledge of life, either by experience or intuition, and what a happy constitutional poise between the passions and the reason, or what a powerful self-command all enter into the composition of that little, demure, quiet, unadmired, and almost despised thing called common sense. It pretends to no brilliancy, for it possesses none; it has no ostentation, for it has nothing to show that the world admires. The powerful and constant action of the intellect, which makes its nature, is unobserved even by the proprietor; for every thing is done with intuitive ease, with a sort of unconscious felicity. See, then, the quick and piercing sagacity, the prophetic penetration, the wide comprehension, and the prompt and accurate judgment, which combine to constitute common sense, which is as inestimably valuable as the solar light and as little thought of. BURR AND BLANNERHASSET.1 Let us put the case between Burr and Blannerhasset. Let us compare the two men and settle this question of precedence between them. It may save a good deal of troublesome ceremony hereafter. Pos Who Aaron Burr is, we have seen in part already. I will add that, beginning his operations in New York, he associates with him men whose wealth is to supply the necessary funds. sessed of the main-spring, his personal labor contrives all the machinery. Pervading the continent from New York to New Orleans, he draws into his plan, by every allurement which he can contrive, men of all ranks and descriptions. To youthful ardor he presents danger and glory; to ambition, rank and titles and honors; to avarice, the mines of Mexico. To each person whom he addresses he presents the object adapted to his taste. His recruiting-officers are appointed. Men are engaged throughout the continent. Civil life is, indeed, quiet upon its surface, 1 Read an interesting article in the "North American Review," (lxxii. 112, July, 1851,) upon the Life and Character of Blannerhasset. but in its bosom this man has contrived to deposit the materials which, with the slightest touch of his match, produce an explosion to shake the continent. All this his restless ambition has contrived; and, in the autumn of 1806, he goes forth for the last time to apply this match. On this occasion he meets with Blannerhasset. Who is Blannerhasset? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storms of his own country to find quiet in ours. His history shows that war is not the natural element of his mind; if it had been, he never would have exchanged Ireland for America. So far is an army from furnishing the society natural and proper to Mr. Blannerhasset's character, that, on his arrival in America, he retired even from the population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude in the bosom of our Western forests. But he carried with him taste and science and wealth; and, lo! the desert smiled. Possessing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace and decorates it with every romantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery that Shenstone might have envied blooms around him. Music that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs is his. An extensive library spreads its treasures before him. A philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature. Peace, tranquillity, and innocence shed their mingled delights around him. And, to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love and made him the father of several children. evidence would convince you that this is but a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocent simplicity and this tranquillity, this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart, the destroyer comes; he comes to change this paradise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach. No monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortunate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. A stranger presents himself. Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. The conquest was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and credulous. Conscious of no design itself, it suspects none in others. It wears no guard before its breast. Every door and portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden when the serpent entered its bowers. The prisoner, in a more engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpractised heart of the unfortunate Blannerhasset, found but little difficulty in changing The the native character of that heart and the objects of its affection. By degrees he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into it the fire of his own courage,—a daring and desperate thirst for glory, an ardor panting for great_enterprises, for all the storm and bustle and hurricane of life. In a short time the whole man is changed, and every object of his former delight is relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene: it has become flat and insipid to his taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are thrown aside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music: it longs for the trumpet's clangor and the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him; and the angelsmile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now unseen and unfelt. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, of stars and garters and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of great heroes and conquerors. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a wilderness; and in a few months we find the beautiful and tender partner of his bosom, whom he lately "permitted not the winds of" summer "to visit too roughly," we find her shivering at midnight on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness, thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace, thus confounded in the toils that were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another,this man, thus ruined and undone and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason, this man is to be called the principal offender, while he by whom he was thus plunged in misery is comparatively innocent, a mere accessory! Is this reason? Is it law? Is it humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will bear a perversion so monstrous and absurd! so shocking to the soul! so revolting to reason! Let Aaron Burr, then, not shrink from the high destination which he has courted; and, having already ruined Blannerhasset in fortune, character, and happiness forever, let him not attempt to finish the tragedy by thrusting that ill-fated man between himself and punishment. EVERY ONE THE ARCHITECT OF HIS OWN FOrtune. Allow me, young gentlemen, to impress upon your minds this truth-the education, moral and intellectual, of every individual, must be chiefly his own work. You must be awakened to the important truth that, if you aspire to excellence, you must become active and vigorous co-operators with your teachers, and work out your own distinction with an ardor that cannot be quenched, a perseverance that considers nothing done while any thing yet remains to be done. Rely upon it that the ancients were right, Quisque suæ fortunæ faber: both in morals and intellect we give their final shape to our own characters, and thus become emphatically the architects of our fortunes. How else should it happen that young men, who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies? Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference is very often in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see issuing from the walls of the same school-nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family two young men, of whom the one shall be admitted to be a genius of high order, the other scarcely above the point of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness; while, on the other hand, you shall observe the mediocre plodding his slow but sure way up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting at length to eminence and distinction, an ornament to his family and a blessing to his country. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly, their own. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. And of this be assured, I speak from observation a certain truth,―There is no excellence without great labor. It is the fiat of Fate, from which no power of genius can absolve you. Genius unexerted is like the poor moth that flutters around a candle till it scorches itself to death. It is the capacity for high and long-continued exertion, the vigorous power of profound and searching investigation, the careering and wide-sweeping comprehension of mind, and those long reaches of thought that 66 pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, This is the prowess and these the hardy achievements which are to enroll your names among the great men of the earth. But how are you to gain the nerve and the courage for enterprises of this pith and moment? I will tell you. As Milo gained that strength which astounded Greece,-by your own selfdiscipline. You have it in your power, indeed, to make yourselves just what you please; and of the truth of this hypothesis, to an extent quite incredible to yourselves at this time, observation and experience leave no doubt in my own mind. You may, if you please, become literary fops and dandies, and acquire the |