powers of human intellect, all that genius has invented, or skill executed, or wisdom matured, or industry achieved, or labor accomplished, when we trace these through the successive gradations of human advancement, what are they? On these are founded the pride, glory, dignity of man. And what are they? Compared with the most insignificant work of God, they are nothing, less than nothing. The mightiest works of man are daily and hourly becoming extinct. The boasted theories of religion, morals, government, which took the wisdom, the ingenuity of ages, to invent, have been proved to be shadowy theories only. Genius has wasted itself in vain; the visions it has raised have vanished at the touch of truth. Nothing is left but the melancholy certainty that all things human are imperfect, and must fail and decay. And man himself, whose works are so fragile, where is he? The history of his works is the history of himself. He existed; he is gone!

The nature of human life cannot be more forcibly described than in the beautiful language of eastern poetry, which immediately precedes the text: “ Man, that is born of woman, is of few days, and full of trouble.

He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut

down; he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not. There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet, through the scent of water, it will bud and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" Such are the striking emblems of human life; such is the end of all that is mortal in man. And what a question is here for us to reflect upon! "Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?"

Yes, when we see the flower of life fade on its stalk, and all its comeliness depart, and all its freshness wither; when we see the bright eye grow dim, and the rose on the cheek lose its hue; when we hear the voice faltering its last accents, and see the energies of nature paralyzed; when we perceive the beams of intelligence grow fainter and fainter on the countenance, and the last gleam of life

extinguished; when we deposit all that is mortal of a fellow-being in the dark, cold chamber of the grave, and drop a pitying tear at a spectacle so humiliating, so mournful,

then let us put the sol

His body is concealed

emn question to our souls, Where is he? in the earth; but where is the spirit? Where is the intellect that could look through the works of God, and catch inspiration from the divinity which animates and pervades the whole? Where are the powers that could command, the attractions that could charm? where the boast of humanity, wisdom, learning, wit, eloquence, the pride of skill, the mystery of art, the creations of fancy, the brilliancy of thought? where the virtues that could win, and the gentleness that could soothe? where the mildness of temper, the generous affections, the benevolent feelings, all that is great and good, all that is noble, and lovely, and pure, in the human character, - where are they? They are gone. We can see nothing; the eye of faith only can dimly penetrate the region to which they have fled. Lift the eye of faith; follow the light of the gospel, and let your delighted vision be lost in the glories of the immortal world. Behold, there, the spirits of the righteous dead rising up into newness of life, gathering brightness and strength, unencumbered by the weight of mortal clay and mortal sorrows, enjoying a happy existence, and performing the holy service of their Maker.

Let our reflections on death have a weighty and immediate influence on our minds and characters. We cannot be too soon or too entirely prepared to render the account which we must all render to our Maker and Judge. All things earthly must fail us; the riches, power, possessions and gifts of the world will vanish from our sight; friends and relatives will be left behind; our present support will be taken away; our strength will become weakness, and the earth itself, and all its pomps, and honors, and attractions, will disappear. Why have we been spared even till this time? We know not why, nor yet can we say that a moment is The summons for our departure may now be recorded in the book of Heaven. The angel may now be on his way to execute his solemn commission. Death may already have marked

our own.

us for his victims. But, whether sooner or later, the event will be equally awful, and demand the same preparation.

One, only, will then be our rock and our safety. The kind Parent, who has upheld us all our days, will remain our unfailing support. With him is no change; he is unmoved from age to age; his mercy, as well as his being, endures forever; and, if we rely on him, and live in obedience to his laws, all tears shall be wiped from our eyes, and all sorrow banished from our hearts. If we are rebels to his cause, slaves to vice, and followers of evil, we must expect the displeasure of a holy God- the just punishment of our folly and wickedness; for a righteous retribution will be awarded to the evil as well as to the good.

Let it be the highest, the holiest, the unceasing concern of each one of us, to live the life, that we may be prepared to die the death, of the righteous; that, when they who come after us shall ask, Where is he? unnumbered voices shall be raised to testify, that, although his mortal remains are mouldering in the cold earth, his memory is embalmed in the cherished recollections of many a friend who knew and loved him; and all shall say, with tokens of joy and confident belief, If God be just, and piety be rewarded, his pure spirit is now at rest in the regions of the blessed.

THE gentleman from South Carolina has painted, in the most glowing colors and fascinating forms, the glorious advantages to the South of a dissolution of this Union. But is there not another side to this picture?-and to this I beg the gentlemen to turn their calm and dispassionate attention. Before they take this fearful plunge, let them look over the precipice on which they stand into the yawning gulf beneath. On the other side of this picture is written, in flaming capitals, Treason, Rebellion, Civil War, with all its fearful consequences. Let it be remembered that no state can go out of this Union until it has conquered all the When one state is gone, no two remain united. We have

rest.

heard of the benefits of destroying this Union; but what will be its cost to those who may attempt it? From imaginary ills they fly to "others that they know not of.”

They now complain of taxation! But what will be the taxation necessary to raise and sustain armies and navies to contend against this government? a government which now, with fond and parental affection, guards and protects the South. But taxation would be the smallest item in the frightful catalogue of their calamities. There is still another leaf in this book, to which gentlemen should look. And can they behold it with indifference? It is the page on which posterity will write the epitaph of the authors of the destruction of this happy and glorious Union; of those who should involve us in all the horrors of civil war; who should arm father against son, and brother against brother; who should destroy this bright and glorious example - the only free government on earth.

How deep and how loud would be their denunciations, how bitter and how blasting would be the curses, with which posterity would brand the memories of those men! And will not their sentence be just? Where will they look for extenuation or excuse? Taxation!-- it is imaginary, not real. All contributions here are voluntary, not compulsory. No people under heaven are half so lightly taxed, or half so highly blessed. In other countries, the people are taxed twenty times the amount, to support despots; imposed, not by themselves, but by arbitrary power. Compared with this country, in England taxation is as eighteen to one; yet they submit, and we rebel. Will not the people of the South look at these facts, and pause before they do the fatal deed that must seal forever their own destruction? In this Union the gentleman from South Carolina has everything to hope; his name may go

down to posterity among the most distinguished men of the age; his talents may adorn its highest offices, to which he has a just right to aspire; and, much as I may differ with that gentleman, both as to men and measures, yet such is my opinion of his talents and his worth, that I would rejoice to see him at this moment filling the highest of the executive departments of this government, or the

highest of its diplomatic stations. That gentleman may be carried away by momentary excitement; still I cannot doubt his attachment to this Union, which I trust he will never sacrifice to imaginary evils. The blessings of this government, and the value of this Union, I have never heard so forcibly urged, or so eloquently portrayed, as by the gentleman from South Carolina himself; and I cannot, in conclusion, better express my own feelings than by repeating the very words uttered by that gentleman in concluding an able and eloquent speech on another occasion, when he said, "The liberty of this country is a sacred depository—a vestal fire, which Providence has committed to our hands for the general benefit of mankind. It is the world's last hope: extinguish it, and the earth will be covered with eternal darkness; but once 'put out that light, I know not where is that Promethean heat that shall that light relume.'"

I appeal to the gentleman; I ask him, is he prepared to destroy that "sacred depository," the Union and liberties of his country? Is he prepared to extinguish, in fraternal blood, that "vestal fire committed to his hands by Providence, for the benefit of mankind?" Is he prepared to destroy "the world's last hope;" to put out and extinguish forever that great and glorious light of liberty and union now blazing up to the heavens, illumining the path and cheering the onward march of the friends of freedom throughout the world, and thus to cover the earth with eternal darkness? Is he prepared for this? I pause for a reply.

MADISON AND THE CONSTITUTION. — J. Q. Adams.

MR. MADISON was associated with his friend Jefferson in the institution of the University of Virginia, and after his decease was placed at its head, under the modest and unassuming title of rector. He was also the president of an agricultural society in the county of his residence, and in that capacity delivered an address which the practical farmer and the classical scholar may read with equal profit and delight.