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EARTH wakes from sleep-from light-and dewy slumber
And crimson morning lights her thousand hills;
No weight of grief is there, her breast to cumber,
No painful presence of life's countless ills;
Upon the uplands, in their glory shining,

Like sheaves of gold, there lies the new reaped grain ;— Low in the glens, in mossy nooks reclining,

Wake the young blossoms fed of dew and rain.
The early birds their gleeful songs are singing,
Wild perfumes float upon the circling air,
The golden bee its outward flight is winging,

And voiceful insects to their haunts repair;-
The skies are cloudless, peaceful in love's mission--
Faint breezes flutter through the arching vines;
Each summer thing is in its full fruition,

From silvery poplar to the arrowy pines.
Earth wakes from sleep-but in man's habitation
There slumbers one, who ne'er shall wake again;
Morn breaks without, within is desolation,

And midnight sorrow with its sleepless pain:
What though the sun in its mid-summer lustre,
Looks brightly down upon that blighted spot?
What though the vines and loosing tendrils cluster
Around the portals of the stricken cot?
There is no sun can pierce the shadow resting
On eyes that closed, alas! too soon in death;
Nor
power in aught, though life and love attesting,
To give the perished one a moment's breath;-
The moon and stars hath many mystic phases,

Revealed to science by their own clear light,
But naught can guide us through death's wildering mazes,
Our stars go down unquestioned into night!
What doth the avenger in our pleasant valleys,
Chilling the verdure with his icy breath?
Slays he alike in college, home, or palace,

Is there no spot unknown to thee, Oh! Death?
Is there no island in the broad blue ocean,
No fabled city in the soundless sea,

Or sphered star, with living light and motion,

To which Earth's children might escape from thee?
Alas! the winds, with ceaseless, ceaseless sighing,
Have swept our earth, and found no hand to save,
On land, on sea, there were the dead-the dying
In every clime, the coffin and the grave:-
Then toll the bell, and where the boughs are bending,
In slumberous silence and in summer bloom,
Consign the dead, whose dream flows on unbending,
Eterne as stars that watch the new-made tomb.
VOL. 1-5.

ART. VII.-NEUROLOGY.

Where stands the SCIENCE OF MAN in the nineteenth century? -in this age so pre-eminently distinguished by its humanitary tendencies? When the Elevation, of the Race, and the Reconstruction of Society engage the earnest thoughts of the best and boldest thinkers,-where is that science which constitutes the very foundation of Government, Political Economy, Education and Philanthropic Reform?

When the Structure of Society, which arises from the wants, the passions, and the faculties of man in relation with his fellows, is universally changing,-where is that science which shall determine the elements of the social structure, their relations to each other, and their capacity for reconstruction in other forms? When the world is perplexed between the positive evils of which it is conscious, and the future evils which hang threateningly over the path that promises to lead to a happier destiny,--is there not an eager demand for the light which shall illumine the pathway to the Land of Promise? Whoever has sought the Improvement of Mankind, in a liberal spirit and with enlarged views, looking not merely to the speedy accomplishment of some special change, but seeking on every hand for the means of the full realization of that Destiny, to which our Moral Nature is continually aspiring,-has, doubtless, often wavered in suspense, between the flattering suggestions of Hope and Benevolence, and the stern admonitions of his own and others' experience of society. He has doubtless lingered long in suspense, before he would abandon the thrilling visions of his youth, before his buoyant spirits and generous impulses would yield to the stern and chilling conviction, of the selfish and brutal nature of the passions, which underlie and move the whole of the present structure of society. And as, in suspense, he has traveled on through life, with the Angel of Hope upon his horizon, still beckoning him onward, while the grim Demons of Want, Despair, Passion and Crime have arisen from the earth, on either hand, to threaten his footsteps, claiming the Desert Plain of Life as all their own,-bravely for a while has he defied their threats, and scorned the realities around, and followed his good Angel; until, with wearied footsteps and ex

hausted faith, he has at last forsworn his Guardian Spirit, and yielded to the sad conviction that crime and want, disease and war, and bleeding hearts and brutalized minds, must ever constitute an immense portion of human destiny, on earth.

With these sad convictions, his right arm is paralyzed, his social sympathies are diminished. His generous labors, and his eloquent outpourings of truth, no longer go forth for the benefit of his fellow man. We need not wonder that the enthusiastic philanthropist of twenty becomes "the practical man" of thirty, the cynical misanthrope of forty, and a gloomy recluse through the remainder of his life.

When there is so much generous emotion in the world, when there are thousands who could readily be summoned to lay down life, or undergo the severest privations, toils and hardships, for their country, family or friends-why is it that so small a portion of this mighty Moral Power has ever been organized for the universal welfare of society? Why is it, but from the fact that all this Moral Power, which is now expended in national defence, in wars for liberty, and in toils for the benefit of our families has been struggling like a blind giant, marring its own. aims, and unable to accomplish its own objects, for the want of light? Assuredly, if all the Benevolence, the Love, the Enthusiasm, the Courage, the Spirit of Self-sacrifice and of Martyrdom, which the world now contains, could be summoned and marshalled for a conflict with the evils under which society groans, they would be dispersed as mists before the sun, and a new order of life would be witnessed throughout the civilized world.

But in the universal chaos and conflict of opinions which now exists, no such co-operative effort can be brought about; and the generous men, whose wishes and efforts would relieve the gloom of the mass of social evils around them, find those evils undiminished, relax their efforts, and sink into the apathetic conviction that the selfish passions, with their inseparable consequences, want and misery, are essential elements of the civilized state. Their moral warmth is dissipated in isolation, and like coals, which when brought and kindled together, would have produced a conflagration, their glowing emotions expire in solitude and darkness.

Must it ever be thus? Have we no truer guide than our own varying impulses? Is there no science which can point with unerring certainty to the natural constitution and social

destiny of Man? Is there no science which can reconcile conflicting experience, establish the unvarying laws of mind, demonstrate the true relations of man to man, reveal the power of those impulses which organize society, and fix the canons of human progress? Is there no science which may survey the future with telescopic truth, distinguishing clouds and mists from realities, and warning us against the ignes fatui of schemes which have so often misled the good?

There must be such a science. When the science of man has been fully developed, it will indicate, not only the elements of his individual nature, but the relations which he bears to his fellows, and true Philosophy of all the different forms of Society. It will indicate their different tendencies, the practicability of each; and the mode in which the most perfect form may be most speedily realized. It will show to the ardent youth the definite means of realizing his anticipations. It will show the mature man the true nature of his social experience, and tend to prevent its making him a "sadder but not better man." And it will show to those who are suffering under misfortune and wrong, those Eternal Laws which are still enforced by the Creator, and which still guarantee reward to rightly directed labor. It will come to the despairing Philanthropist, and assure him that the Angel of Hope whom he has instinctively followed, is no illusion of his own imagination, but is a true and guiding Minister from Heaven to allure him on in the path of Right and Truth.

"

Where

Such is the noble office of the true science of man. fore, again I ask, where in this nineteenth century stands this science of man? Stands it forth in the van of civilized movements, guiding the march of troubled nations to light and liberty? Is it present among the world's iron-nerved Reformers, who are battling against all fraud and wrong-a counsellor in their ranks, telling them where to strike and when to withhold the blow? Is it among the pilgrim seekers of Moral Truth, teaching the eternal laws, which the Creator Himself has stamped upon the creature, and saving them from the delusions of fashion, sects and parties? Is it, anywhere, on the broad horizon of human intelligence, raying forth its own surpassingly effulgent light?

Alas, alas!—even in this philanthropic age, the science of sciences occupies no such position. The luminous era which it is to bring in, has not yet arrived. Like a dim beclouded star,

feebly it shines-low on the horizon of the sciences; and men have scarcely suspected that this dim meteor is yet to become the Sun of our Social and Political world.

If the present age had been distinguished by its Intellectual inactivity-if there were not thousands continually engaged in the details of the physical sciences and of various moral enquiries--the deficiencies of our anthropological knowledge would not appear so conspicuous. But when the restless mind of man has successfully explored the movements of heavenly bodies invisible to the naked eye- has investigated the minutest fibres and globules which belong to the human body-has traced the forms and studied the habits of the invisible tenants of a drop of water;-why, when physical researches have been so bold, so active and so boundless in their scope, and when the accumulations of physical science already greatly overburden the stoutest memory--why has the true science of man received so little attention? Why is it, when the forms and habits of the minutest insects and most useless reptiles, have been studied with such persevering assiduity, that the science of man, which is worth all other natural sciences combined, has yet no definite form or outline to establish its existence? Lame, helpless and blind, it limps along far in the rear of other sciences, instead of leading in the front, commander of the host and master of them all.

Have I exaggerated the importance of a science of man?If such a suspicion arises to the mind of any reader, that suspicion is sufficient evidence of its universal and shameful neglect, since even a sketch of its scope and bearing is not recognized at once.

Have I exaggerated our Intellectual Destitution, when I affirmed that no such science existed in any definite form? Then, let me ask, in what form does it exist? Where is its name and where is it taught? Where are the learned works which profess to unfold this science of man, and by what titles are they known?

There is but one word in our language which seems to indicate such a science. That word is Anthropology. Has it become "familiar in our mouths as household words?" Is it a favorite word among philosophers and political economists, philanthropists and religious teachers? Or is it a word of strange and recondite meaning--of technical import, unfamiliar to the popular ear, and a comparative stranger among men of science?

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