world, and to mingle with all sorts and classes of people. His house was frequented by the good, the great, the wise, the intelligent; and humble merit was always welcome at his board and fireside. He was not ambitious, except in the apostolic sense. Instead of any leaning to covetousness, the tendency of his benevolent nature was rather to the opposite extreme. He was free from envy, and jealousy, and resentment. Of these I could never detect in him the slightest indication. He had enemies, and he knew them. He was often misrepresented, and sometimes grossly slandered. But he uttered no words of complaint, or anger, or unkindness. I believe he forgave them and prayed for them. He was an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile. He appeared incapable of deception, or intrigue, or crafty management, for any purpose. He was no bigot or dogmatist. He cheerfully conceded to others the same liberty, with all the rights of conscience and judgment, which he claimed for himself. He would defend his own creed or opinions without arrogance or bitterness. He could demolish error or heresy, without abusing or denouncing men, or sects, or parties.

In the General Assembly, Synod, and Presbytery, of his Church, he was confessedly primus inter pares,—or at least second to none,-if report and tradition may be credited. But as my observation did not extend to these, I shall attempt no description. There was a wide difference in the character of his eloquence, between his early and later years. I happened, while on a visit to

Virginia in 1810, to meet with several elderly persons who had heard him preach, when a young man. They spoke of him as an impassioned orator,-like Whitefield or their own Davies and Henry. They spoke, too, of his patriotic speeches at the beginning of the Revolution, and of their marvellous effect upon the people. Now I never witnessed anything of this sort. He had long before my day been disabled for such efforts. In the pulpit, when I heard him, he was comparatively calm and subdued in manner,-though the most dignified, graceful and impressive of preachers.

At the age of sixty-two, he was compelled, by ill health, to relinquish all public employments. During the remaining seven years he lived in retirement. This was perhaps the most beautiful and instructive period of his life. It often looms up before me like a bright, blessed, glorious vision,-such as we dream of, but never realize. It seemed as though all the Christian graces and virtues, freed from every human imperfection, had now clustered around him, and blended together, like the colors of the rainbow, into a living form of chastened, hallowed, radiant loveliness.

His person, presence, and carriage were so remarkable that he never entered the village church or college chapel, or walked the streets, or appeared in any company, without arresting attention, or creating a sensation, not of surprise or wonder, but of pleasing, grateful admiration,-a kind of involuntary emotion and homage of the heart-a tribute as cordially yielded

as it was richly deserved. In a word, the venerable figure, the saintly aspect, the benignant smile, the ethereal spirit, the tranquil resignation, the humble faith, the cheerful temper, the habitual meekness, the generous sympathy, the comprehensive charity, the modest unpretending gentleness of his whole manner, -all proclaimed the mature and gifted Christian, ready to depart, and calmly expecting his final translation to a more congenial world.

To the last, this good man continued accessible and attractive to all; and he well knew how to engage in pleasant and profitable conversation with persons of every variety of age, rank, and condition. Always the Christian gentleman, it was impossible for him to make an approach towards levity or coarseness, in word or act. I never heard from his lips an anecdote or allusion, a hint or expression, which might not have been whispered in seraph's ears. This innate purity or acquired sense of propriety, I think, was peculiar and characteristic. It certainly is not always prominent even among divines. He took great interest in the youthful candidates for the ministry. He delighted much in their society. His little parlour was often filled with them. And then, what words of wisdom, of kindness, of encouragement, of counsel, and the prayer!-for he always concluded these meetings with prayer. The prayer of the dying patriarch,-of the ascending prophet!-for such to us he seemed. Thus blandly and peacefully passed away the latter years of the veteran invalid

soldier of the cross,-doing what he could,-still, as ever, faithful to his vows, and zealous in his Master's service. If he had faults, I saw them not; or if I did, I have long since forgotten them. Such are my recollections of Dr. Smith.

Very respectfully and truly yours,

PHILIP LINDSLEY.

THOUGHTS ON SLAVERY.

AN EXTRACT.

[THE following passage is the one to which reference is made on page 574 of the present volume, as containing the author's earlier views on American Slavery. It formed a part of his discourse from Gal. i. 10, on leaving Princeton in 1824, and was published at the time in pamphlet form at the request of the Senior Class of the College of New Jersey, accompanied by an Appendix, explaining more fully his position. As, however, the whole passage was omitted in the author's carefully revised manuscript copy of the discourse, written long afterward at New Albany, it was thought best, in republishing the discourse in the second volume of his Works, to follow the manuscript rather than the printed copy. Hence the sermon now appears without the passage. But, inasmuch as the passage is a remarkable one, as showing the author's views at that early period, and inasmuch as he had himself once committed it to the press, it has been thought every way appropriate to insert it, along with the explanatory Appendix, as a separate article, in this volume of his political and miscellaneous writings.]

Men often overlook the claims to their generosity which are at hand-near at home-at their very doors -while they make a show of extraordinary sympathy and regard for remote objects, about which the public mind may happen to be greatly excited. They will give, for instance, to the rescue of the Greeks from Turkish oppression, while they forget that we retain in this land of liberty a people as numerous as the Greeks, in a state of bondage, a hundred-fold more degrading and miserable than any Mohammedan tyrant