formed of his situation, the first wish that he expressed to the friend who conversed with him, was, that a knowledge of his danger, if it were not known to them already, might be kept from his other friends as long as possible. During the remainder of his sickness he repeatedly expressed his habitual faith. He spake as he had done in health, of his trust in the providence and mercy of God, and of his belief of the high destination of those who endeavour to fulfil the purposes of their existence. It produced a feeling almost of cheerfulness to hear him talk of death, and of his hope of meeting again the friends who had gone before him from this world. The efficacy of his religious faith gave him mental strength in that state of bodily weakness and disease which renders us sensible to the slightest impressions. He expressed those feelings which are produced only by correct notions of Christianity, having their full operation in a comprehensive and intelligent mind. In speaking of meeting again those whom he had known on earth, he mentioned the name of Mr. Buckminster. It is now a second time since the commencement of this work, that I have been called to record the death of one with whom I was then particularly connected; with whom I had a more than common agreement of opinion and sympathy of feeling; and whose loss has been at tended by such circumstances of a public and private nature as to make it most deeply felt. To me the retrospect is very solemn and affecting. In returning to my usual studies and pursuits, I cannot but feel something of solitude and desertion. But it is no common privilege to have known such men; to have been honored with the regard of one of them, and to have been most intimately connected with the other. To me Mr. Eliot was a friend most warm, most sincere, and most disinterested. I may be permitted to pay this tribute to the dead, and to claim this high honor to myself. With his name I wish my own to be always connected. The hopes and affections that clung round him with the thought of whom almost every feeling was associated, have been torn from their support. But it is past: I endeavour to think of him as one with whom I am hereafter again to be united; and any thing in life would be a poor exchange for this expecta tion. VERSES. By the author of the last piece. Farewell! before we meet again, Perhaps through scenes as yet unknown, That lie in distant years of pain, I have to journey on alone; To meet with griefs thou wilt not feel, But ne'er a deeper pang to know, But who the destined hour can tell, But chance what may, thou wilt no more Or charm with friendship's kindest smile. Each book I read, each walk I tread, I shall not, should misfortune lower, If thou hadst lived, thy well-earnt fame Servant of God! thy ardent mind, Another task to thee was given; With patient smile, and steady eye, Servant of God! thou art not there; Dost thou amid the rapturous glow With which the soul her welcome hears, Dost thou still think of us below, Of earthly scenes, of human tears? Perhaps e'en now thy thoughts return We fancied then those nobler ends, We spake of knowledge, such as soars How vivid still past scenes appear, I feel as though all were not o'er, But I shall hear it in that day : Whose setting sun I may not view, We meet again: a little while, 4 |