sometimes, in diseases, entirely removed, and in convalescence as completely restored; and so rapid is the action of these vessels, and so thoroughly do they penetrate the hardest bones, that the color of the bones may in some cases be changed, by a change of diet, even in two or three days. Yet the bones and vessels, and their connexions and relations, are but the beginning of the wonderful structure of the human frame. Were we to take a particular view of the muscles, and their connexions with the parts already considered, and particularly the skilful and surprising manner in which they act upon the bones, by means of sinews, and were we to examine the larger viscera of our frames, and their relations and functions, and then look for a moment on the glandular system, and learn the origin, course, and issues of all the secreted fluids, that are daily formed within us, we could then have some faint notion of the intricacies of the anatomy of man, and of the great wisdom requisite to design, and skill to to form such a being. But having taken this view, it would be nothing more than an outline of the great machine. The The minutia must be considered before we can fully learn what is here to be learned of the wisdom of God. In the outline we have faintly marked, we have omitted the most wonderful, most intricate, and most interesting part. We have said nothing of the nervous system. Nothing of the connexion of this system with those already mentioned. The nerves are the seat of all sensation, feeling, sympathy, and affection, and the origin of all motion. Paralyze one set of our nerves, and our power over the muscles and limbs of one side is gone. Paralyze another set, and the muscles of the upper or lower extremities become useless-a third set being destroyed, and we are unable to speak a fourth, and our reason is gone-a fifth, and the digestive organs are destroyed a sixth, and we cease to breathe. Nerves are found dispersed over the whole surface of the skin, through every vessel, every organ, every muscle, all the viscera and glands of the body-yea, and in the very bones, and among the cartilages. In every part of our body we have either feeling or power of motion, or are sensible of involuntary operations. The nerves, by old anatomists were considered as uniform in structure, and functions. But now it is known, that one part of the nerves is completely under the power of the will, and the rest entirely independent of it. They are also divided into nerves of motion, of sensation, of respiration, and sympathetic nerves. The attenuation of all these systems is surprising. We hear anatomists speak of nerves of nerves, of veins of veins, and arteries of arteries. And if it is necessary that all the large veins, arteries, and nerves, should be attended by nerves, veins, and arteries, of a smaller size, may we not suppose that these have others still smaller attending them, and that these last are attended by others still less, and so on ad infinitum. But let us look at man as a spiritual being. How various are his faculties, his desires, his capacities. He is a social being, susceptible of the most tender affections. He is malignant, capable of cherishing the darkest and most diabolical designs, and most bitter animosities. He is active and energetic, bold and venturesome, daring to rise into the air, to dig into the earth, to encompass sea and land, and pry into the secret, and hunt out the unknown parts of the earth. He is frightened by neither the depth, breadth, or storms of the ocean, nor by the height or precipitancy of the most rugged mountains. The beasts of the forest, darkness, dangers, and horrors, are not to stop him. War, with all its train of terrors, is sought by him. Yet he is susceptible of meekness, patience, self-denial, kindness, gentleness, mildness. And he has mental faculties. He remembers things long past, he looks forward to things far ahead, and imagines things that never did or will exist or occur. He can deliberate and decide, or suspend his judgment. And his faculties are never dormant. His memory, his imagination, his judgment and will, are always with him. In an instant he is ready for action with any of his faculties. When we consider his mental faculties, we see that he is wonderfully made. But his duties, his responsibilities, his obligations, his dangers, trials, and temptations, all tell him that he is fearfully made. Every breath he breathes, ev PROSPECTIVE GLORY OF THE UNITED STATES. miles. as the rope. ery pulse he feels, every sensation, and | 4,000 PROSPECTIVE GLORY OF THE UNITED STATES. 249 miles, and a lake coast of 1,200 One of its rivers is twice as long Danube, the largest river in EuThe Ohio river is 600 miles longer than the Rhine, and the noble river of the Hudson has a navigation in the "Empire state" one hundred and twenty miles longer than the Thames. Within Louisiana are bayous and creeks, that are almost unknown, that would shame by comparison the Tiber or Seine. The state of Virginia alone is one third larger than England. The state of Ohio contains 8,000 square miles more than Scotland. The harbor of New York receives the vessels that navigate rivers, canals, and lakes, to the extent of 3,000 miles, the THE prospective glory of the United distance from America to Europe. From States is a subject which overwhelms the the capital of Maine to the "Crescent imagination. No citizens of ancient or city," is 200 miles further than from Lon. modern times ever had such a country to non to Constantinople, a route that would contemplate as those of the United States. cross England, Belgium, a part of PrusSo vast, so fruitful, possessing every cli- sia, Germany, Austria, and Turkey. The mate, from the cold of the north, to the increase of population has been rapid bebalmy airs of the tropics; every plant, yond precedence, and in accordance with from the great pine of the Aroostook, to the the country itself. At the close of the delicate jessamine of the Rio del Norte. revolution, the United States contained a Within our boundaries are the foundation population not twice as large as the presof untold wealth, our mountains are filled ent city of London; in less than fifty with the riches of every mine, our valleys years, it has increased into seventeen milinvite the hand of cultivation, and smile, lions, and this population the amalgamaas none other, on the labors of the hus- tion of the finest European races, bandman. The troubled waves of the At-ing a national character having for its basis lantic, and the stiller waters of the Pacif- the irresistible energy and steady courage ic, lave our coasts; our ships whiten the of the Anglo-Saxon, in which are mingled ocean, and the loved flag that waves over the religious tenacity of the thrifty Scot, them, is the harbinger of liberty, and the the generous bravery of the quick-witted protection of the powerful and brave. Irishman, the sanguine and elastic spirit In examining our geographical limits, we of the mercurial Frenchman, and the pafind within it, the extent of ancient and tient, persevering industry of the honest modern empires still left in wilderness, German." yet by the enterprise of our citizens, the Yet all this has been accomplished additions of new states almost realize the within the ordinary lifetime of an individprophesy of "a nation being born in aual. There are those in our land that day." The ultimate history of our coun- were present at the birth of the nation, and try seems too vast for human conception. The experiment of millions of men living under a republican government, and left to the fruition of the unfettered body and free mind, joined together in advancing the interests of humanity, and accomplishing the highest perfection our nature is capable of, who can conceive the result? The United States have a frontier of over 10,000 miles, a seacoast of nearly "form have witnessed its wonderful growth. The future-pressed on by the accumulated energies of the last fifty years-will develop results in arithmetical progression, more wonderful; and as the imagination attempts to draw a picture of the future, the mind shrinks from the conception, and the judgment and fancy are destroyed, in the presentation of the not half-conceived reality. BE INDUSTRIOUS. that for the purpose, not of acquiring wealth, but of doing good. The word "avarice," HERE is no situa- is not to be understood to imply a desire tion in life, which af- of earning or gaining, but of retaining or fords so much com- hoarding what has been acquired of wealth. fort and enjoyment as But our subject is the duty of industry and that of having body diligence. If any man entertains and and mind constantly cherishes the true principle of sympathy employed. Although and benevolence, deriving more pleasure there appears to be in relieving the sufferings of his fellowin the minds of most people a natural an- mortals, than in the possession of such tipathy to labor, yet it is well known, and articles of wealth as are not utterly indisgenerally admitted by those whose circum- pensable, there will be no danger of his stances have at times required incessant being either idle or miserly. But the neglabor, and at other times perfect leisure lect of improvement of an hour of time and exemption from care, that there is is as decidedly a crime, as the wasting of vastly more enjoyment in industry than in money or property; and the neglect of idleness. It is the plain and express duty doing good to others when opportunity ocof every person to be industrious, and to curs, is decidedly incompatible with the improve every hour of their time, in the character or hope of a true Christian, for full exercise of their natural strength and" he that knoweth to do good and doeth it faculties, in the most useful employment. not, to him it is sin." No circumstances in life can furnish an excuse for a neglect of this duty. We would not, in these remarks, wholly proscribe recreation; but a well-balanced mind will find the most healthy and pleasant recreation in exercises which are decidedly useful and beneficial to themselves and others. For example: a boy takes pleasure in the exercise of hauling a little cart loaded with earth or stones, though there be no advantage in the removal of those articles; but does he find any less pleasure, under a consciousness of doing good, when removing the same materials from a place where they were an encumbrance, to another place where they are wanted? Certainly not. Or if a miss finds pleasure in walking in the fields, that pleasure is rather enhanced than otherwise, if she can accomplish something useful by the walking. It is a common thing for men, during their labor, to derive an enjoyment from the anticipation of the pecuniary compensation which they are to receive therefor, but this kind of enjoyment is far inferior to that of one who rejoices, during his labor, in the consciousness of performing a duty, and a sense of divine approbation. The scriptures of divine truth, which alone furnish perfect laws and rules of duty, and guide to happiness, contain many injunctions to industry and diligence in business; and HOPE. HOPE is the connecting link between the past and the future. It is a constant prophet, save that it always dresses out events to come in a gaudy hue, which fades and blackens when the wheels of time bring us to the consummation. Were it not for this earnest of the future, this principle implanted in the breast of man, he would have nothing for which to live, nothing to induce him to drag out a miserable existence. Never is hope so wild and imaginative, and we may say, so deceitful as in youth; never so sober, so true, so stable, as in age. Although hope is often delusive, yet, in the greatest misery, the least flickering ray of sunshine peering into the caverns of the heart, revives the drooping soul, and excites action, as when some precious gem, under the sun's beam, flashes its radiance round the darkened cell and springs into multiplied existence. Hope is an eternal principle. Though in the last strait, man never ceases to hope; when the spark of life departs, it flies heavenward, and is rekindled upon the altar of eternity! ALEXANDER. wieldy commonwealth of Rome before his time was tending fast toward a despotism, F kings and war- and it remained only to be seen whether riors, no one has that despotism should be committed to acted so eminent a Pompey or to him-to the representative part on the mighty of the aristocratic, or the favorite of the stage of the world democratic party. The life of Alexander, as Alexander, com- on the contrary, was one of those critical monly called the epochs which have changed the history of Great, third king the civilized world. It was foretold in of Macedonia of that name. Cæsar, the prophecy as one of the appointed means other great conqueror of antiquity, the of working out the decrees of the Alequal probably of Alexander in ability, and mighty; it cast down the mighty empires his rival in renown, had far less influence of the earth, it substituted new dynasties, on the destinies of mankind; for the un-new manners, and a new language over No. VI.-16 the richest part of the known world. It forms a turning point, a link of sacred and profane history, and as such possesses a great and lasting interest, independent of that seductive glory which waits upon brilliant qualities and wonderful actions set off by success. The Macedonians, of whom Alexander was the hereditary king, had in the more brilliant times of Greece been regarded as little better than barbarians, unworthy of being ranked with the polished citizens of the Greek republics, though the kings of Macedonia were of Argive origin, and traced their descent from the honored line of Hercules. Philip, the father of Alexander, was the first of them who rendered his power formidable to his southern neighbors. He was a brave, able, and ambitious prince, successful equally in negotiation and war. He died B. C. 336. found knowledge I gained from you be communicated to all?" The passage may serve in some respects as a key both to the good and evil of Alexander's temper. Ardent in the pursuit of excellence, his motive and object seems rather to have been the desire to excel others, rather than excellence in the abstract, and for its own sake; as in the very instance now under review, in which knowledge was avowedly sought and esteemed for selfish purposes. How great his progress in abstract science may have been, we have no means to determine; that his talents were carefully improved is evident. His style in speaking and writing was clear and pure, his capacity was suited no less to civil than to military business, above all, he had that talent for command, that ascendency over the minds of others, which seems a part of the natural constitution of those who enjoy it, unattainable, though improvable, by study. To judge from the results, his moral must have been inferior to his intellectual training: he was rash, headstrong, hot-tempered, and selfish, as all must be who can not bear even an equal, and with whom, therefore, self-aggrandizement is the first object of life. That Aristotle, master as he was of moral philosophy, had not taught his pupil the art of selfgovernment, is evident from the anecdotes of Alexander's youth, as well as from the excesses of his maturity. But we must not forget that the gifts of nature and of fortune combined in this instance to enhance the difficulty of inculcating or of practising self-control. Alexander was born at Pella, B. C. 356. As by his father he claimed descent from Hercules, so by his mother Olympias, of the royal house of Epirus, he traced his line to Achilles. His education was conducted with care and judgment, and he grew up robust and active, skilled in military exercises and the use of arms. In running and riding he was pre-eminent; and one of the most celebrated actions of his youth was the taming of a magnificent Thessalian horse, which had been offered for sale to his father, but refused, as being so fierce that no one could ride it. This was the celebrated Bucephalus, who, after carrying Alexander through his Persian campaigns, died in the battle against Porus, on the banks of the Hydaspes, Such as we have endeavored to describe leaving his name and fame (like the no less him, at the age of twenty, Alexander came celebrated Rozinante) as an inheritance to the throne. The suddenness of Philfor all of his respectable species. Alexan- ip's death, and the youth of his successor, der's mind was not less carefully cultivated gave to all those who had borne with anthan his body. At the age of fifteen he ger and impatience the rapid increase of was placed under the immediate superin- Macedonian power, a favorable opportudence of Aristotle, who continued near nity, as it then seemed, of emancipation. his person until he set out on the invasion Dangers and rebellions surrounded Alexof Persia. It is conjectured that the phi- ander on all sides, but decision and promptlosopher composed for his use the valuable itude saved him. He marched an army at treatises still extant, on logic, poetry, &c.; once into Thessaly, and having by his unand there is a letter extant in which he expected presence nipped in the bud the upbraids his tutor "for publishing those plots of the discontented party, he probranches of science hitherto not to be ac- ceeded to Thermopyla, where the Amquired except from oral instruction. In phictyonic counsel recognised him, in what shall I excel others, if the more pro-place of his father, captain-general of |