nay. Mysticism was the result of an infusion of the Platonic philosophy with Christianity. This philosophy taught that human reason was an emanation from God, and comprehended all the elements of truth; and that, by closing the avenues of sense, turning away from human affairs, and exhausting the body, the spirit returns to God, and, in inexpressible raptures, contemplates undisguised and uncorrupted truth. These enchanting notions were somewhat modified through the views of the Mystics, who ingrafted upon them the notions of entire, disinterested devotion to God, and freedom from all selfish considerations.

just before been contemplating the loveliness of the dying year; and my feelings were deeply impressed with the evanescence of every thing terrestrial. I had thought of death. But it was death among friends. My own mortality had passed before me; but my dying couch was surrounded by weeping survivors: a sister, a brother, a parent, stood at my head to wipe the dew of death from my brow, and close my eyes when the soul had ceased to shine through them. I was at home, and amid friends. But here was a sudden change made in the course of my thoughts; for I had the evidence before my eyes that a man might die alone, and far from home and friends, with none to weep at his departure, and no lament made at his grave, save the mournful note of the whip-poor-will, and the melancholy sigh

Reader, do you enjoy comforts springing from communion with God? O, how dreadful the condition of a soul without God in the world." Better be without food, without raiment, without shelter, {ing of the evening breeze! without an immortal soul. How fearful that voluntary blindness which can meet God at all points for twenty, thirty, forty years, without ever seeing him! How wonderful that hellish chemistry which can keep the soul perpetually insulated amid incessant currents of holy influence! How amazing that diving-bell of depravity which enables a sinner to live, and move, and breathe in God for a long lifetime, without ever feeling the transforming influence of his Spirit! In such a state, how could a soul enjoy heaven? But I address some to whom spiritual enjoyments are not strange. Blessed are ye; for "the Spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you."

BRADDOCK'S GRAVE.

IN crossing the Alleghany mountains, during the past autumn, it was my privilege to have daylight a large portion of the way. This gave me a fine opportunity of witnessing "autumn's home amid the mountain passes." Nothing can exceed the beauty of the mountain scenery at this season of the year. The evergreen hemlock, pine, and cedar, blend their hues with the crimson-colored leaves of the dogwood and gum; while the russet-brown of the oak, and the delicately varied shades of the maple, fading from a scarlet to a lemon, combine their power to increase the beauty: and a thousand other shrubs and trees, of various shade and hue, commingle their efforts to throw a kind of enchantment over the whole. I was engaged in contemplating in silence a scene like this, when a fellow-passenger in the stage made some remark about Braddock's grave. The sound arrested my attention; and on looking up I saw, near the roadside, a finger-board nailed to a tree, bearing those significant words. Following with my eye the direction indicated, I saw, at a short distance, a small inclosure made with pales. And here, in this lone spot, amid the mountains, without monument or tablet, to record his history or exploits, lies all that remains of General Braddock. I had

The history and the fate of Braddock, are full of mournful interest. He was an English general, sent to this country for its protection against the savages of the wilderness. He was unaccustomed to Indian warfare, and rigidly adhered to European tactics. With young Washington, as a lieutenant, he made his last fatal engagement with the red men of the forest. The scene of this engagement was near the banks of the Monongahela, several miles above the present city of Pittsburg. The history of "Braddock's defeat," is too well known to every one who has read the life of the father of his country, to need a repetition here. Suffice it to say, that his army fell like leaves in an autumnal storm, before the fire of a concealed enemy. General Braddock, wounded in the engagement, barely escaped with his life. Twelve of his soldiers were taken prisoners, and carried by the Indians to Fort Du Quesne. Here, after running the gauntlet, they were painted black, and miserably and inhumanly burnt to death by their savage conquerors. The General himself made an effort to reach the settlements in Virginia, but perished among the mountains on his way thither. For a number of years his final resting place was undiscovered. But tradition marks out the spot described above, as his place of sepulture; and, apparently, with sufficient reason.

What a lesson does the last scene of Braddock's life impart to the votary of ambition! He toiled hard for fame. He exposed himself to danger and to death to gain the soldier's wreath; and, doubtless, expected that when he fell, a weeping nation's sighs would be his requiem; while a chaplet of unfading laurel would encircle his memory. And yet, on the cold mountain's brow he found his tomb; and the only tablet which commemorates his departure is the granite cliff, chiseled by the finger of the mountain tempest! Truly, thus passes away this world and all its glory. Blessed are they, and only they, who seek an enduring renown, by enrolling their names, not upon the escutcheon of fame, but in the Lamb's book of life. G. W.

DR. HOUGHTON.

the darker will his brow become. And no wonder: would the miser be pleasant if you thrust your hand into his coffers to abstract his gold? Time is the student's gold, or rather his philosopher's stone, with which he transmutes every thing into gold. Dr. Houghton, however, was always lively, always cordial. If he wished to get rid of a troublesome guest, he would do it with a sweet ingenuity, which, while it increased your admiration of his genius, would not diminish your estimation of his friendship; but, generally, when oppressed with company in study hours, he preferred, after making a pleasant apology, to work and talk together: a twofold task which few men are able to perform. To ministers of the Gospel, he was peculiarly kind, respectful, and hospitable. Besides contributing his full share to the support of the Gospel in several Churches, I have known him occasionally to slip a ten dollar bill into the hands of a clergyman, in such a way as to illustrate the direction, "Let not thy right hand know what thy left hand doth;" nor was this with any sinister intention, for his ambition was not for popular favor.

He was a man of dauntless courage. Though very small in person, he seemed to fear nothing when in the discharge of duty, or the pursuit of knowledge. He was at home in the wilderness, and knew how to control the wild beast and the wilder savage. He stood fearless with his hammer on the solitary sand beach, or the lonely reef, far away from the utmost verge of civilization. Foremost he walked in the hour of danger: firmly he held his helm, and raised the voice of encouragement amid the white caps when the hardy voyagers trembled. Nor mountain, nor rock, nor storm, nor stream, was a passless barrier to his adventurous footsteps.

We often apply the term courage to pusillanimity, ferocity, and even madness; but, surely, we use it properly when we apply it to the man who toils, at the risk of life, to discover and develop the resources of a country, and thus multiply the means of human support and human happiness.

Dr. Houghton's death was eminently characteristic. He was in pursuit of science-on a dangerous voyage. When the sailors said, "We had better go ashore," he replied, "We had better go on." The storm increases-the breakers dash-a sailor significantly hands him a life-preserver, but he lays it by his side: a heavy sea fills the vessel-it is baled out, and followed by another-the boat capsizes-a sailor ascends from the water and seizes the keel: on looking round, he sees the geologist and draws him up. Even under these circumstances, Dr. Houghton's courage and hope fail not. Mark, too, his nobility of spirit. Addressing the sailor, he says, "Never mind me, Peter, try to go ashore if you can. I will go ashore well enough."

Perhaps some may deem him to have been imprudent and rash; but we should beware how we

censure. In his fifteen years' experience in similar excursions, I have no doubt he often escaped under circumstances of even greater apparent peril.

Wilson, the ornithologist, died from the ardent pursuit of a rare bird, of which he had long been in search. But who would convict him of imprudence before considering his character, and the circumstances in which he was placed.

Of Dr. Houghton's religious character, although long acquainted with him, I can say but little.

He was no Atheist: he repudiated Atheism as the grossest absurdity. The pages of nature, which he was continually studying, were to him so many hymns of praise to God.

He was no Deist. He never expressed to me any doubts of the authenticity and divine authority of the holy Scriptures.

He was not heterodox in his views of religious doctrine. The last time I saw him, he said to me very earnestly, "I believe in the doctrine you preached last Sabbath." The sermon was on total depravity, and the necessity of regeneration. His mind was too philosophical to admit this doctrine and deny its dependent ones.

He was no stranger to religious thought or feeling. This he directly assured me in the conversation just alluded to. "But," he exclaimed, "how can I attend to religion in the whirlpool of business!" "Insufficient excuse," I replied. "David with his immense kingdom found time for devotion. Daniel, with the concerns of a hundred and twenty provinces upon his hands, could kneel down to pray, morning, noon, and night." Alas! how many professing Christians devote themselves, with a zeal no less ardent, and an effort no less constant, to much less dignified and useful pursuits, and with far less worthy motives. Let the reader see that she estimate more correctly the worth of an immortal soul, the pleasures of religion, and the treasures of the skies.

Men, such as Dr. Houghton, have often more religious feeling than they are willing to admit, or we are willing to allow them. For aught we know, there may have been moments of anguish when he bowed before the cross, and sent out an arm of faith, and felt something within him far better and holier than a sentimental or philosophical admiration of the Almighty. May we not hope that, when the fires of the final day shall shine, not only through the history of the world, but also through that of the hearts of all the rational beings who shall have been its inhabitants, we may see reason why the Divine Being may, under the plan of redemp{tion, welcome the subject of this brief article to the world of light.

Our acquaintance with Dr. Houghton terminated sometime since. He may have become truly and publicly religious since that period, as he had a beautiful exemplification of the beauty and divinity of the Gospel in his own happy family.

SYMPATHY.

SYMPATHY.

How subtil and mysterious is this power; how difficult to analyze and comprehend! It is the electric chain, which binds, in one universal brotherhood, the whole family of man; it is the great power of cohesive attraction, which holds in one mighty mass the shifting elements of humanity. In union is strength: how insignificant and powerless is a single drop of water-bind together, by the principle of cohesive attraction, myriad of drops, and the broad ocean rolls its mountain waves, lifts up its voice of power, and tosses gallant fleets like playthings on its stormy bosom! And man, isolated man, how puny his efforts, how trifling his performances-link man with man, and pyramids and temples rise in lofty proportions, cities spring up in lonely places, the very elements become his slaves to do his bidding: he sails upon the bosom of the air, controls the forked lightning, and makes the great sea a highway for the nations. It is not merely sympathy, however, that thus binds man with man; other causes contribute to this effect, which it is foreign to our purpose now to examine.

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change their current: no one draws near them in the intimacy of confiding affection; no long pent up sorrows gush forth in their presence, neither does the heart in its gladness expand in beauty before them. Good sense, judgment, intelligence, and virtue, they may possess, but none seek from them aid, counsel, or guidance: they are inclosed in the icy palace of their own greatness, and its crystal walls are not to be melted by the breeze of emotion, or the tears of sorrow. They cannot marry the hopes and fears of others, or "look into happiness through another's eyes," or realize the desolation of other hearts. They rejoice not with them who do rejoice, neither weep they with them who weep. They have not the "open sesame " of the human heart, which, with all its treasures of thought and feeling, remains closed in their presence.

Others there are, whose characters firm and cold as marble have here and there rich veinings of sympathy. I have seen the vault of heaven obscured by lowering clouds, when at some opening, the purest azure gleamed out from between the torn masses, and the bright sunlight dazzled us with its unexpected and momentary radiance. It is thus that some characters, generally cold and impenetrable, will, when we least expect it, reveal some kindling beam of sympathy, and open to us a glimpse of pure and healthful feeling, ere the character closes up as before, and the short-lived radiance disappears.

Sympathy is displayed in one of its most striking manifestations in the vast assembly, when the mighty mass of human life is permeated by one and the same feeling is swayed and controlled by the thrilling eloquence of the orator. He has struck the key-note of sympathy, and the great instrument of the human heart discourses most excellent music. He can tune to lightsome strains, or draw forth notes of the deepest pathos, as the varied tones of harmony burst forth at his bidding. As the trees of the forest bow their lofty heads, when the strong wind passes over them in its might, and as the rustling foliage dances and quivers in the summer breeze, so are the hearts of the people now bowed by the overwhelming powerthought breaks upon the shore, regardless whethof eloquence, and now gently stirred and agitated by the less impassioned words of the orator.

A constant reference to this principle, will solve many of the mysteries which perplex us in the varied intercourse of life. With some spirits we at once feel that the chord of sympathy is struck, and thoughts and words blend in a continuous strain of harmony. There is no fear, no restraint, but a beautiful "unwithholding trust "-the wave of

er it bestow grains of sand or seed pearl. Each mind receives a new impulse-its dormant energies awake-things hidden within the folding of the heart come forth in life and beauty, and the secret fountains of the soul, struck by the rod of sympathy, pour forth, in gushing streams, their limpid waters. One, but yesterday a stranger, already en

Sympathy is the handmaid of benevolence, and many are the kindly offices of love performed by her promptings. Her gentle touch opens the heart, and the hand opens the purse, and pours forth its treasures to the destitute. Other treasures, too, are freely bestowed at the bidding of sympathy-some-joys more of the "intimacy of the mind "—knows times of greater price than thousands of gold and silver. She unlocks the fountains of tears which fall like rain drops on a parched land; she has soothing, soul-calming words, as well as an eloquent silence, "more rich than words," for the grieved and stricken in spirit, while for the happy and hopeful, she has bright smiles even "when other quests are in her eyes," and words of gladness and joy. She has all things for all men, and none are sent empty away.

There are those among men who remain apart, it may be, in the solitude of their own greatness. They stand aside and let the great tide of human life rush past them, without seeking to color its waters, or to VOL. VI.-2

more of the wishes and aspirations of the soul-has obtained a clearer insight into the movements of the inner life than the known and the recognized of years. And why is this? The magic word will unfold the mystery. With those whom we have met again and again upon our daily paths, whose intelligence and moral worth command our esteem and admiration, we may not pass the threshold of an acquaintance: "Thus far canst thou go and no farther;" and the wave of thought may dash for years against that iron-girt coast without making any progress. There is no sympathy-thought springeth not to thought, neither does deep call unto deep. Our paths may lie side by side throughout life, but

they will continue parallel lines, never meeting or ing to the glorified Savior amid the sanctities of blending into one.

Perhaps sympathy and its full power is never understood till breezes from the far-off land sweep over its lyre of many strings. It is only when the flame of divine love burns bright, that wondrous characters, written in ink of sympathy, steal out, and are traced on lip, and brow, and heart by that inspiring warmth. In the summer evening walk, when

"Twilight lets her curtain down,

And pins it with a star,"

heaven; for our great High Priest is as ready to heal and bless as when "the cry of the human sounded in the ears of God manifest in the flesh. SPERANZA.

DIVINE PROTECTION.

Ar the suggestion of the then missionary to the Wyandotts, I send you an account of Divine protection at the Wyandott camp meeting, June 21, 1834.

The Wyandott Reservation not being under the jurisdiction of the state of Ohio, the inhabitants were not under the protection of its laws. The usual remedy against the aggressions of lawless disturbers, was application to the 'Indian Agent," who had jurisdiction in such cases. At the time of the camp meeting, it so happened that the Agent was absent: consequently, the property and persons of all on the Reservation were unprotected by law. The encampment was situated in a grove on the east side of the prairie, some three miles south of the "battle ground," and southeast from where Crawford was burnt, after the Muskingum massa

cre.*

how rapid may be the exchange of thought! how the book of the soul's history may be opened, and the light in darkness—the transition from the land of mists to the region bathed in the soft light of hopethe bright beams of promise may be dwelt upon with joyous recollection, till those hearts are united by the golden chain of sympathy, and they are made one! In the social meeting, too, how great is its influence! A band of Christians assemble at stated periods to set up their way-marks in their pilgrimage to speak words of mutual encouragement-to tell one another how fast and how far they have traveled toward their heavenly inheritance, and what, they think about their title to it, and what messages they have received from it, and what glimpses they have had, through the telescope of faith, of that blessed land. Or they meet to pray together, that they may agree as touching one thing-together to bow before the eternal throne-together to lift the voice of praise and thanksgiving to Him whose hand has "taken them out of the crowd of this world," and has "made them which were no people," mere atoms in existence, driven hither and thither, the sport of the winds of life, "to be the people of God"-to be carried forward in the great movement which is controlled by God's providence, and which aims at the most lofty and glorious results. The incense of prayer rises as a great cloud-the words of praisedential manner in which disturbers were quelled at come forth rejoicingly from the lips-the great deep of the heart is broken up, and the mighty waters rush on in one full stream. Time was when

"Each in its hidden sphere of joy or woe,

Their hermit spirits lived and ranged apart;"

but the soft voice of sympathy has called them forth,

In the early part of the meeting, information came that certain "rowdies" from Tiffin and Lower Sandusky had combined, and threatened to break up the camp meeting. The alarm of the peaceful worshipers increased as these reports became more and more confirmed, and much anxiety was apparent. On Saturday morning, the superintendent exhorted the Wyandotts, as their protector, the Agent, had left his post at a time when, of all others, they most needed his presence, to throw themselves completely under the Divine protection-relating some striking instances of answers to prayer, especially the provi

a camp meeting in 1828. This had the desired effect. The day was clear-the services went on. After dinner it became evident there was more truth than fiction in the report: the "rowdies" appeared. Individuals who would blush to see their names here strolled through the encampment in disguised cloth

and there is now the free communion of thoughting, and with huge walking sticks. As the woman and feeling.

There is a sympathy higher than that of earth, deeper than aught of which we have spoken-the feeling of one touched with our infirmities-one who knoweth the manifold burdens that rest upon the heart; for He dwelt amid the sight and sounds of human misery. He felt, in the lowly home of his childhood, the discomforts and the petty grievances of life he had sorrow for his companion in that pilgrimage during which he was often seen to weep, but never to smile, and as he looked down the long vista of earthly woe, he saw and understood it all; so that no form of sadness need shrink from appeal

one hundred and six years in the Philadelphia Almshouse, who, when asked if she loved the Lord Jesus, replied with warmth, "Be sure I do: I've nobody else to love!" so the Wyandott worshipers looked to the Lord; for they had "nobody else" to whom to look. "Rowdies" became insolent, as their numbers increased, and night drew near. Complaints of outrages multiplied, and the worshipers increased the fervor of their prayers for help. Just then the thunder murmured in the distance. All eyes were turned to that quarter. The sun, in

* See Heckwelder's Narrative.