DR. FRANCIS WAYLAND was born in the city of N. York on the 11th of March, 1796, and in the seventeenth year of his age he was graduated at Union College, in Schenectady. After studying medicine for three years, and his admission to practice, he entered the Theological Seminary at Andover, which he left at the end of a year, to become a tutor in Union College. In 1821 he became pastor of the First Baptist Church, in Boston, where he continued five years. He was elected to the presidency of Brown University in 1826, and entered upon his duties at Providence in 1827. President Wayland's first publication was a ser mon on the Moral Dignity of the Missionary Enterprise, delivered in Boston, in 1823, which had an extraordinary success, passing through many editions, in England and this country. Very many of his discourses, since that period, have been equally popular. He has also written numerous articles in the journals and quarterly reviews. His works on Moral Science, Political Economy, and Intellectual Philosophy, have deservedly met with great success. His very interesting "Life of the Missionary, Dr. Judson," appeared in 1853. This able thinker is equally popular as an orator and a writer. Clear, exact, and searching in his analysis, he penetrates to the very heart of his subject, and enunciates ita ultimate principles in a style of transparent clearness, and classical purity and elegance, and not unfrequently rises to strains of impassioned eloquence. THE 78. THE WORLD FOR SALE. 1. THE WORLD FOR SALE!-Hang out the sign; Call every traveler here to me: Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, And set me from earth's bondage free?— 'Tis going!-yes, I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away; 2. It is a glorious thing to see,- For sale! It shall be mine no more. I would not have you purchase dear: 'Tis going! GOING!—I must sell! Who bids?-Who'll buy the splendid Tear? 8 ALIOS," he lived for the good of others.- WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, & distinguished British statesman, author, and Christian philanthropist, was born at Hull, in 1759, and died July 28, 1833. 8. Here's WEALTH in glittering heaps of gold;- A baser lot was never sold; Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care? 4. Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell 5. And FRIENDSHIP,-rarest gem of earth,— Once, twice, and THRICE!-'tis věry low! 6 FAME! hold the brilliant meteör high; Ye millions, now's the time to buy! How much for Fame?-How much for Fame? Hear how it thunders!-Would you stand And be with a world's curses crown'd! 'Olympus, a mountain range of Thessaly, on the border of Macedonia. Its summit, famed by Homer and other poets as the throne of the gods, is estimated to be 9,745 feet high. 7. Sweet star of HOPE! with ray to shine Who bids for man's last friend and best! 8. And SONG! For sale my tuneless lute; 9. Ambition, fashion, show, and pride,- Has taught my haughty heart to bow. 10. No more for me life's fitful dream;- My FAITH, my BIBLE, and my God. RALPH HCYT. REV. RALPH HOYT is a clergyman of the Protestant Episcopal Church in New York. He is a native of the city. After passing several years as a teacher, and a writer for the gazettes, he studied theology, and took orders in the church in 1842. Mr. HOYT may have written much, but he has acknowledged little "The Chant of Life and other Poems," appeared in 1844, and the second portion of the same, in 1845. These works are principally occupied with passages of personal sentiment and reflection. His pieces, entitled "Snow," "The World for Sale," "New," and "Old," have attracted considerable attention, and become popular. A simple, natural current of feeling runs through them; the versification grows out of the subject, and the whole clings to us as something written from the heart of the author. He has latterly resided at a cottage pleasantly situated on the high ground in the rear of the Palisades, at the village of Fort Lee, New Jersey, opposite New York. 79. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. one of those sober and rather melancholy days, in the latter part of autumn, when the shadows of morning and evening almost mingle together, and throw a gloom over the decline of the year, I passed several hours in rambling about Westminster Abbey. There was something congenial to the season in the mournful magnificence of the old pile; and, as I passed its threshold, it seemed like stepping back into the region of antiquity, and losing myself among the shades of former ages. 2. I entered from the inner court of Westminster school, through a long, low, vaulted passage, that had an almost subterranean look, and pursued my walk to an arched door, opening to the interior of the Abbey. On entering here, the magnitude of the building breaks fully upon the mind, contrasted with the vaults of the cloisters. The eye gazes with wonder at clustered columns of gigantic dimensions, with arches springing from them to such an amazing height; and man wandering about their bases, shrinks into insignificance in comparison with his own handiwork. 3. It seems as if the awful nature of the place presses down upon the soul, and hushes the beholder into noiseless reverence. We feel that we are surrounded by the congregated bones of the groat men of past times, who have filled history with their deeds, and the earth with their renown. And yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanity of human ambition, to see how See note 1, p. 263.- Westminster school is situated within the walls of the Abbey. It was founded by Queen Elizabeth for forty boys, denominated the Queen's scholars. Many of the nobility and gentry send their boys also for instruction, so that this institution stands in the highest repute, and vies with the celebrated school at Eaton. they are crowded together and jostled in the dust; what pars! mony is observed in doling out a scanty nook, a gloomy corner, a little portion of earth, to those whom, when alive, kingdoms could not satisfy; and how many shapes, and forms, and artifices are devised to catch the casual notice of the passenger, and save from forgetfulness, for a few short years, a name which once aspired to occupy ages of the world's thought and admiration. 4. I passed some time in Poët's Corner, which occupies an end of one of the transepts or cross aisles of the Abbey. The monuments are generally simple; for the lives of literary men afford no striking theme for the sculptor. Shakspeare' and Addison have statues erected to their memories; but the greater part have busts, medallions, and sometimes mere inscriptions. 5. Notwithstanding the simplicity of these memorials, I have always observed that the visitors to the Abbey remain longest about them. A kinder and fonder feeling takes place of the cold curiosity or vague admiration, with which they gaze on the splendid monuments of the great and heroic. They linger about these as about the tombs of friends and companions; for there is something of companionship between the author and the reader. Well may posterity be grateful to his memory; for he has left it an inheritance, not of empty names and sounding actions, but whōle treasures of wisdom, bright gems of thought, and golden veins of language. 6. I entered that part of the Abbey which contains the sep ulchers of the kings. I wandered among what were once chapels, but which are now occupied by the tombs and monuments of the great. At every turn I met with some illustrious name, or the cognizance of some powerful house, renowned in history. 7. As the eye darts into these dusky chambers of death, it catches glimpses of quaint effigies: some kneeling in niches, as if in devotion; others stretched upon tombs, with hands piously pressed together: warriors in armor, as if reposing after battle; 'SHAKSPEARE, see Biographical Sketch, p. 348.- ADDISON, see Biographical Sketch, p. 513.—3 Cog' ni zånce, knowledge or notice; jurisdiction; acknowledgment, as of a fine. |