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having at last obtained the darling wish of my soul. For I had ever loved the sea; in the bright dreams which stole over me during the cloudless days of childhood, I always fancied myself upon the ocean's bosom,

—“ and my joy

Of youthful sports was on its breast to be
Borne, like its bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wanton'd with its breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror-'twas a pleasing fear."

The sailor's life was my "beau ideal" of happiness. As I grew older time strengthened rather than weakened this love for the sea; and since I entered college, often have I closed my book and on the wings of memory flown back and revelled in scenes long since passed away. The sea! were I a pagan I should idolize it as a being of power and loveliness. For there are its varied features, now calm and wreathed with smiles-its scarcely perceptible undulations kissing the sandy shore, or wantonly rolling up the sides of the stern-brow'd precipice—the image of beauty sleeping;—and now, starting like a giant from his sleep, convulsed with anger, howling in its frenzy and wreaking its vengeance on man, barque and city. There are its long lines of billows rolling from many a distant shore, the foam dancing on their ridges "like the white mane of a dark warhorse ;"-its minstrelsy swelling the chorus of nature's anthem, or murmuring a strain more soft than the Eolian harp;—its untrodden pavement set in motley mosaic of gold, iron and bones;-its bosom unmarred by time, whose secrets,

-"none went and came again to tell;"

its dark, unfathomed sepulchres which hold the form of many a beloved one; its sublimity-its indestructibility-its vast expansion. Venerable Patriarch! thou art the earth's elder brother, born alone when nought save God existed; rolling on in thy solitude thou wast the first that hailed the birth of time. As thou wast-so thou artunchangeable as thy Creator,-sweeping around this globe, the uniting band and benefactor of the whole. Thou didst cradle the ark of Noah and thou still cradlest the frigate and the fisherman's canoe :thy tides came and went along the same shores which they now love to revisit:-the beauty of thy waves still remains as of old, inimitable. There too is thy Mediterranean, with all the mythological associations connected with it by the ancients. Here it was that Agamemnon with his retinue of kings and princes sailed to Troy. The Lemnian now steers his log-hollow'd canoe over the same waters where came with high hopes to gather deathless laurels Diomed, Nestor, Ajax, Ulysses, "the wise," and Menelaus, "loved of Mars." By the same billows which now roll sluggishly along the shore, Achilles "walked and mused and nursed his ire," against the son of

Atreus. Its bosom, beautiful as the sky above it, whose waters are rarely ruffled, and over which the tempest seldom howls, was the birth place of the "queen of beauty:" beneath its billows sported the Tritons, Mermaids and Syrens; while deep, deep below were their crystalline grottoes. Reader! dost thou love the sea? Pardon then this digression.

At an early hour in the afternoon we passed the Cape, and long ere night arrived the last of my native hills faded away below the western horizon. However sad might have been my feelings for a moment as I cast my last, lingering look upon the land where I had left all those who were dear to me, they were soon chased away by one of the most beautiful sights I had ever witnessed. My powers of description are too feeble to picture that glorious scene which closed my first day's adventures. It was, a sunset at sea! The few truant clouds, which at first were scudding hastily along the sky, seemed to stop in their swift race, and crowd themselves together, to witness the splendor of their retiring king, and pay to him their evening worship. The bright monarch accepted their offering, and as he departed flung around his golden mantle of light. The ocean waves raised and bowed their heads in adoration, while the western breeze was pealing over them the evening anthem.

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ORIGINALITY OF MIND.

-"Nil fuit unquam

Tam dispar sibi."

A VOLUME might be written on the inexplicable nature of manthe mysterious blending of freedom and necessity-the constant struggle of passion and judgment, of interest and conscience-and the thousand contradictions that mark the union of soul and body here below, and convert the human bosom into a chaos of inconsistencies. Man is a mystery,-view him in the successive stages of his existence, ever varying and still the same, view him as one who has an amazing concern in the developments of the present, yet voluntarily absenting himself from passing scenes that he may waste his thoughts and similes on the uncertain future, or dwell with thoughtfulness on the past; or, take a closer observation, inspect his secret self, and mark the convictions unlike the truth, the beliefs without and in spite of evidence, the anticipations of objects unreal or impossible, the impulses, the sympathies, the prejudices, the eternal and tumultuous contest of opposing elements, look into these ever agitated depths of his nature, and see how he maintains the consciousness of his identity and safety undisturbed amidst all the violence that invades and threatens him, and the conviction is strengthened and illustrated, that man is a mystery. What are his proudest thoughts? those that relate to himself. And of these no one is cherished with more constant complacence, than the flattering sentiment of his own absolute independence. The meanest slave of passion, the veriest subject of prejudice, the most yielding creature of babit, each alike boasts the glorious freedom of perfect self control, and they are ready to encounter any temptation, to face any danger, to welcome any trial, triumphing in the ability to govern themselves.

To one who looks at this universal assurance and the consequent sense of security in which every one reposes, it will seem mysterious that these self flattering masters of themselves, all of them are greatly, and many of them entirely under the control of outward events and circumstances. Small indeed is the number of those who, amidst all the varied influences that surround and encounter them, preserve a distinct uniform and individual character. Indeed, the habit of assimilation is so universal that we speak of it as one of the original and prominent sentiments of the mind, and, when men are characterized not as individuals, but in classes, we find the resemblance so perfect as to suggest and justify such a grouping. Of the great mass of minds, how few can be distinguished by any thing peculiarly their own-how many are noted for only general resem

blances! Take away external distinctions that enable us to specify individual men, their names, their residence, the particulars of their family and condition,-and society is left like a mass of pebbles that have been mingled and moved and worn and rounded, and at length thrown up to lie upon the shore, as mute witnesses of their own passive progress from rudeness to form and similarity. The minds of men are not like the original and separate elements of light, each distinct and peculiar, but like mingled rays, the whole combined in one, and one revealing the whole.

Such is the fact; and seeing it so we might submit in silence, believing it to be our fate, were it not that a deep sense of shame always accompanies its confession on the one hand, and on the other, a claim to self control and independence is invariably sustained and defended by men with manifest pride, as if it were an bonor indispensable to our peace and self respect. The bosom instinctively swells with indignation at the charge of being a slave, much more a slave in mind, and men blush and bang their heads when forced to acknowledge a degradation like this. The highest encomium upon a man is that he originates and controls his own habits; and here is the secret of the real worth and the frequent semblance of such a character. Men know that it is their proudest pretension, but from natural aversion to every thing arduous, they attempt to impose upon themselves and deceive the world with the name and the shadow, while they neglect to pursue and fail to attain the reality; and hence nothing is more usual than to see men become common and similar, being passively moulded by similar circumstances, and nothing more common than their attempts to appear original and independent.

One, in eager search after something wherewith to distinguish himself from the common multitude, will find a vein of wit, or stumble upon an unforeseen joke, and in consequence meet with real or misinterpreted commendation: henceforth he will give every subject which he touches that particular tinge which presents most distinctly the view of his own original peculiarity. Now there is, undoubtedly, such a thing as original humor, so distinct and eminent as to form for him who has it, an entire and independent character, and he who has power and self control enough, has our leave, if he chooses to unite and exercise all his endeavors to develop that, as the prominent peculiar characteristic of himself. If successful we will freely accord to him the honor of having produced for himself a character of his own; we will do this freely and fully, for in thus distinguishing himself, he has conquered the natural indolence and submission of the mind, and acquired a command of himself that well entitles him to praise. But in the cultivation of wit, as in all other pursuits after eminence, the instances of just claim to distinction are far from being numerous. Most of those who demand credit for originality, adopt a shorter and easier course. The circumspec

tion and toil necessary to produce an independent and original character are too irksome, while a gentler way invites them to improve upon and correct others, and so by investing their thoughts with new and often fantastic attire, they succeed in appropriating what others have toiled to produce, and in gratifying at the same time their own indolence and ambition. This is the avenue which most of the would-be-distinguished wits throng, and in which they disappear, the forgotten victims of ambitious indolence, like the once proud and individual hours of existence, that have vanished away and mingled with the undistinguishable elements of the past.

We have said and seen it true of wits, that nothing is more common than to see men aspiring to the credit of originality and boasting of independence, while almost invariably they only become members of a particular class, with nothing distinct and characteristic ;and the remark is equally true of philosophers and poets. The important and honorable characteristics of the former, are depth and assurance; depth, for they explore to the foundation and trace remote causes; assurance, for their convictions claim to be the results of full and impartial investigation,-the copies of reason and nature. But he who is willing to avoid the unwelcome toil of breaking up his confirmed habits and systems of thought, and of giving himself freely to careful and tedious examination, and of maturing conclusions rather than receiving opinions, he who dreads to encounter all this, and is yet ambitious of the philosopher's name and honor, will find an easier way to win the envied title. He will substitute the appearance for the attainments;—to seem profound, he will involve stale and useless thoughts in obscurity;-to exhibit the strength and assurance of his convictions, he will support dogmas with obstinacy. And by such tricks he will often succeed, for men will affect to admire his mysticisms, not for any new or important truth contained in them, but because the thought of being able to discover something where all is obscurity to others, flatters their own intellectual vanity; or they will subscribe to his dogmas, because no doubts or inquiries of theirs can disturb his philosophic pertinacity. The real philosopher has, more than all others, an original and independent mind, not moulded or swayed by circumstances, but self controlled, self developed, superior to all around it, and superior to its own operations. Such a character is the result of original freedom and subsequent laborious and uninterrupted training;-a process in its origin, its character and its progress, the exact opposite of his who without the study would win the reputation of a philosopher. He assumes at once the name and arrogates its honors, and to win them be will be found among the ignorant and unlettered, astounding them with loud sounding terms and incomprehensible definitions,-a skillful cheat exposing his wares in the dark,—or among others he will seem to despise what he cannot comprehend-making his ignorance pass for discrimination; or he will differ from those around him on the plea

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