to be perfectly white. The sun shone with the clearest splendor, from a station in the heavens the most advantageous to our prospect; and the cascade glittered down the vast steep like a stream of burnished silver.

At the distance of three-quarters of a mile from the entrance, we passed a brook, known in this region by the name of the flume, from the strong resemblance to that object exhibited by the channel which it has worn for a considerable length in a bed of rocks, the sides being perpendicular to the bottom. This elegant piece of water we determined to examine farther; and, alighting from our horses, walked up the acclivity perhaps a furlong. The stream fell from a height of two hundred and forty or two hundred and fifty feet over three precipices; the second receding a small distance from the front of the first, and the third from that of the second. Down the first and second it fell in a single current, and down the third in three, which united their streams at the bottom in a fine basin, formed by the hand of nature in the rocks immediately beneath us. It is impossible for a brook of this size to be modelled into more diversified or more delightful forms; or for a cascade to descend over precipices more happily fitted to finish its beauty. The cliffs, together with a level at their foot, furnished a considerable opening, surrounded by the forest. The sunbeams, penetrating through the trees, painted here a great variety of fine images of light, and edged an equally numerous and diversified collection of shadows; both dancing on the waters, and alternately silvering and obscuring their course. Purer water was never seen. Exclusively of its murmurs, the world around us was solemn and silent. Everything assumed the character of enchantment; and, had I been educated in the Grecian mythology, I should scarcely have been surprised to find an assemblage of Dryads, Naiads, and Oreades sporting on the little plain below our feet. The purity of this water was discernible, not only by its limpid appearance and its taste, but from several other circumstances. Its course is wholly over hard granite, and the rocks and the stones in its bed and at its side, instead of being covered with adventitious substances, were washed perfectly clean; and, by their neat appearance, added not a little to the beauty of the scenery.

THE GOODNESS OF GOD AS MANIFESTED IN CREATION.

Were all the interesting diversities of color and form to disappear, how unsightly, dull, and wearisome would be the aspect

of the world! The pleasures conveyed to us by the endless varieties with which these sources of beauty are presented to the eye are so much things of course, and exist so much without intermission, that we scarcely think either of their nature, their number, or the great proportion which they constitute in the whole mass of our enjoyment. But, were an inhabitant of this country to be removed from its delightful scenery to the midst of an Arabian desert, a boundless expanse of sand, a waste, spread with uniform desolation, enlivened by the murmur of no stream, and cheered by the beauty of no verdure; although he might live in a palace, and riot in splendor and luxury, he would, I think, find life a dull, wearisome, melancholy round of existence; and, amid all his gratifications, would sigh for the hills and valleys of his native land, the brooks and rivers, the living lustre of the Spring, and the rich glories of the Autumn. The ever-varying brilliancy and grandeur of the landscape, and the magnificence of the sky, sun, moon, and stars, enter more extensively into the enjoyment of mankind than we, perhaps, even think, or can possibly apprehend, without frequent and extensive investigation. This beauty and splendor of the objects around us, it is ever to be remembered, is not necessary to their existence, nor to what we commonly intend by their usefulness. It is, therefore, to be regarded as a source of pleasure gratuitously superinduced upon the general nature of the objects themselves, and, in this light, as a testimony of the divine goodness, peculiarly affecting.

GOFFE, THE REGICIDE.

In the course of Philip's war, which involved almost all the Indian tribes in New England, and among others those in the neighborhood of Hadley, the inhabitants thought it proper to observe the first of September, 1675, as a day of fasting and prayer. While they were in the church, and employed in their worship, they were surprised by a band of savages. The people instantly betook themselves to their arms-which, according to the custom of the times, they had carried with them to the church-and, rushing out of the house, attacked their invaders. The panic under which they began the conflict was, however, so great, and their number was so disproportioned to that of their enemies, that they fought doubtfully at first, and in a short time began evidently to give way. At this moment an ancient man, with hoary locks, of a most venerable

and dignified aspect, and in a dress widely differing from that of the inhabitants, appeared suddenly at their head, and with a firm voice, and an example of undaunted resolution, reanimated their spirits, led them again to the conflict, and totally routed the savages. When the battle was ended, the stranger disappeared; and no person knew whence he had come, or whither he had gone. The relief was so timely, so sudden, so unexpected, and so providential; the appearance and the retreat of him who furnished it were so unaccountable; bis person was so dignified and commanding, his resolution so superior, and his interference so decisive, that the inhabitants, without any uncommon exercise of credulity, readily believed him to be an angel sent by Heaven for their preservation. Nor was this opinion seriously controverted until it was discovered, several years afterward, that Goffe and Whalley had been lodged in the house of Mr. Russell. Then it was known that their deliverer was Goffe, Whalley having become superannuated some time before the event took place.

LEVI FRISBIE, 1784-1822.

LEVI FRISBIE was born in Ipswich, Massachusetts, in the year 1784. His father, whose name he bore, was a clergyman of that town, distinguished for his conscientiousness and his sense of religion; and to his instructions and example Mr. Frisbie may be supposed to have been, in a great measure, indebted for the first planting of his religious sentiments. After completing his preparatory studies at Andover Academy, Mr. Frisbie entered Harvard University in 1798. As a student, he was among the most distinguished in his class for his talents and acquisitions, for correctness of conduct, integrity, and manliness. Soon after leaving college, he commenced the study of the law; but his fair prospects were soon clouded by an affection of his eyes, which so deprived him of their use for the purpose of study that he was never after able to use them except for very short periods. This great affliction he bore like a man and a Christian, and derived from it the moral benefits it was adapted to afford. He made use of every means in his power for improvement, invented a machine to aid him in writing, and was surrounded by friends ready always to read to him.

Being unable to pursue his professional studies, he accepted the

place of Latin tutor in Harvard University in 1805, in which he continued till 1811, when he was appointed Professor of the Latin language, which chair he held till 1817. On the 5th of November of that year, he was inaugurated as Professor of Moral Philosophy; and the address which he delivered upon the occasion is one that shows his eminent fitness for that high office, as a scholar of enlarged views, refined taste, deep thought, and elevated Christian principles. But, alas! "Death loves a shining mark." Professor Frisbie had given but two courses of lectures, when symptoms of that insidious, but fatal disease-consumption-appeared, and on the 9th of July, 1822, after a lingering illness, he breathed his last.

Of his character, one who was associated with him in the faculty of the College, and his most intimate friend,' thus writes: "If those who knew him best were called upon to mention any virtue of which he was particularly distinguished, I believe they would unite in naming INTEGRITY. He was a man who, if ever ANY ONE could, might have told the world his purposes, and risen in their respect. If you were to determine whether he would pursue any particular course of conduct, or aim at any particular object, you had only to determine whether he would think that object right, and that course of conduct his duty, and you were sure that no selfish or mean passion, and no sinister purpose would interfere to lead insensibly his judgment astray. There were no false appearances about him. He had nothing of that disguise and cunning which are sometimes mistaken for policy. His conduct lay before you in broad daylight; and you never were at a loss for his motives, and you never perceived any but what were honorable. His notions of right and wrong were founded upon the laws of religion, and of God, and not upon the maxims of the world. He compared his actions, not with the opinions and sentiments of the day, but with the eternal principles of morality."

THE RECIPROCAL INFLUENCE OF MORALS AND LITERATURE.

In no productions of modern genins is the reciprocal influence of morals and literature more distinctly seen than in those of

'Professor Andrews Norton-one of Harvard's most distinguished sons-in his "Address at the Interment of Professor Frisbie."

In 1817, Professor Frisbie was married to Miss Catharine Saltonstall Mellen, daughter of John Mellen, Esq., of Cambridge, who, for personal charms, mental accomplishments, and warmth and elevation of soul, was the "counterfeit resemblance" of her husband's charming poem, "A Castle in the Air." They had but one child, a daughter, who died in infancy.

the author of Childe Harold. His character produced the poems, and it cannot be doubted that his poems are adapted to produce such a character. His heroes speak a language supplied not more by imagination than consciousness. They are not those machines that, by a contrivance of the artist, send forth a music of their own, but instruments through which he breathes his very soul, in tones of agonized sensibility that cannot but give a sympathetic impulse to those who hear. The desolate misanthropy of his mind rises, and throws its dark shade over his poetry like one of his own ruined castles; we feel it to be sublime, but we forget that it is a sublimity it cannot have till it is abandoned by everything that is kind, and peaceful, and happy, and its halls are ready to become the haunts of outlaws and assassins. Nor are his more tender and affectionate passages those to which we can yield ourselves without a feeling of uneasiness. It is not that we can here and there select a proposition formally false or pernicious, but that he leaves an impression unfavorable to a healthful state of thought and feeling, peculiarly dangerous to the finest minds and most susceptible hearts. They are the scene of a summer evening, where all is tender, and beautiful, and grand; but the damps of disease descend with the dews of heaven, and the pestilent vapors of night are breathed in with the fragrance and balm, and the delicate and fair are the surest victims of the exposure.

Although I have illustrated the moral influence of literature, principally from its mischiefs, yet it is obvious, if what I have said be just, it may be rendered no less powerful as a means of good. Indeed, the fountains of literature into which an enemy has sometimes infused poison naturally flow with refreshment and health. Cowper and Campbell have led the muses to repose in the bowers of religion and virtue; and Miss Edgeworth has so cautiously combined the features of her characters that the predominant expression is ever what it should be. She has shown us not vices ennobled by virtues, but virtues degraded and perverted by their union with vices. The success of this lady has been great, but, had she availed herself more of the motives and sentiments of religion, we think it would have been greater. She has stretched forth a powerful hand to the impotent in virtue; and had she added, with the apostle, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, we should almost have expected miracles from its touch.

The incorporating of religion with morality is a means of practical influence, and extends to every order in society. It