which the imagination can cast upon all subjects, and the powerful action of the understanding, in measuring the relations of ideas-in surveying the constitutions of things-in penetrating the secrets of nature, and developing the properties of mind and matter, furnish conclusive evidence of the progressive improvement of our faculties, and of their capacity to elicit new ideas on all subjects, and to make discoveries of all kinds. Some inventions are the offspring of accident, as gunpowder, printing, and the mariner's compass. Others, are the result of a happy impulse. Some assume maturity at the first inception, like Pallas, who sprung from the head of Jove, completely armed with the panoply of wisdom. While most discoveries have proceeded gradually to perfection, like our majestic Hudson, which, although small in its origin, yet, by the addition of fresh streams in its career to the ocean, becomes at last able to bear ships of the greatest burden. We are as prone to shoot beyond as to shoot short of the mark; and nothing is more pernicious to the discovery of truth, than a refining and sophisticating spirit, which infects every subject with its perverse and diminutive views. An illustrious writer* has well observed, that "men are accustomed to take a prospect of nature from some high tower, to view her at a distance, and to be too much absorbed in generalities. Whereas, if they would vouchsafe to descend, approach nearer to particulars, and more exactly and considerately look into things themselves, there might be a more true and valuable comprehension and discovery." And let it be understood, "that the wonders of nature lie out of the high road and beaten paths, so that the very absurdity of an attempt may sometimes be felicitous." The mind, matured by deep and continual meditation-enlightened by wise and learned conversation-and fertilized by judicious and extensive reading, resembles that splendid metal which was formed from the fusion of many minerals in the great conflagration at Corinth. Like

the crucible of the alchymist, it will indeed aspire to creative power: like the deflagrator and the galvanic battery, it pursues nature into the most occult recesses, and tortures her into a confession of her most important secrets; and like the poet's eye, it glances from heaven to earth. from earth to heaven, and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.*

Let us then be vigilant and active in the great and holy cause of knowledge. The field of glory stretches before you in wide expanse. Untrodden heights and unknown lands surround you. Waste not, however, your energies on subjects of a frivolous nature, of useless curiosity, or impracticable attainment. Books have been multiplied to designate the writer of Junius -the Man in the Iron Mask has exercised the inquisitorial attention of Europe-and perpetual motion, the philosopher's stone, and the immortal elixir, have destroyed the lives and fortunes of thousands. Genuine philosophy has sometimes its aberrations, and like the Spartan king or Roman emperor, mingles in the amuscments of children. The sceptre of science is too often. surrounded by toys and baubles, and even Linnæus condescended to amuse his fancy with the creation of vegetable dials and oriental pearls. Innovation without improvement, and experiments without discoveries, are the rocks on which ingenuity is too often shipwrecked.

"Omne ignotum pro magnifico," said the profound historian of Rome. Wonder is the child of ignorance, and vanity the offspring of imbecility. Let us be astonished at nothing but our own apathy, and cease to be vain even of our virtues. The fragrance of the humble lily of the valley, and of the retiring eglantine of the woods, is more grateful to genuine taste, than the expressed odor of the queen of flowers, or the most costly products of the chemical alembic.

In our literary pursuits, let us equally reject a blind

credulity that believes every fable, and a universal pyrrhonism that repudiates all truths-a canine appetite, which devours every thing, however light, and digests nothing, however alimentary-and a fastidious taste, which delights not in the nutritious viand, but seeks its gratification in the aromatic desert.

The waters of ancient learning ought to be drunk at the fountain head in preference to the streams. We are too prone to rely on references, quotations, abridgments and translations. The consequence is, that the meaning of the original frequently reaches us in a perverted or erroneous shape-its ethereal spirit evaporates by a change of conveyance, and we lose our acquaintance with the learned languages. A fault equally common, and more humiliating, is an idolatrous veneration for the literary men of Europe. This intellectual vassallage has been visited by high-toned arrogance and malignant vituperation. Harmless indeed is the calumny, and it recoils from the object like the javelin thrown by the feeble hand of old Priam; but it ought to combine with other inducements to encourage a vernacular literature, and to cause us to bestow our patronage upon more meritorious works of our own country. We have writers of genius and erudition, who form a respectable profession. Some have ascended the empyreal heights of poesy, and have gathered the laurel wreaths of genius; others have trodden the enchanted ground of fictitious narrative, and have been honored by the tears of beauty and the smiles of virtue. While several have unfolded the principles of science, literature, philosophy, jurisprudence and theology, and have exalted the intellectual glory of America; let us cherish the hope, that some at least will devote their faculties to improve those arts and sciences on which the substantial interests of our country so greatly depend. I refer particularly to agriculture, civil engineering, and naval architecture. Let us also trust that some vigorous minds will apply their powers to the illustration of our history. It has been said, with more point than truth, that the annals of modern colonies afford but two me

morable events--the foundation, and the separation from the parent country.* If this observation had been so qualified as to refer to those occurrences as the most memorable, not as the only memorable events, it would undoubtedly have been correct. The colonial history of New York, although imperfectly executed, and brought down only to 1732, is fertile of instruction and replete with interest. The translations of the erudite Vanderkemp, and the collections of the Historical Society of New York, have furnished the most ample materials; and whenever it is given to the world by a master hand, it will be a complete refutation of the remark which I have quoted. Is it too much to say, that we have no good history of the United States, and that the best account of our independence is written by Botta, an Italian? At this moment, a respectable mechanic of the city of London is collecting materials for writing our history. He is favorably noticed by distinguished members of parliament; and although his mind has not been disciplined by a liberal education, yet its productions display vigorous and cultivated powers. Let this stimulate us to similar and animated exertions, and let not our writers despair of ultimate success, even if their efforts are attended with partial failures. Experience certainly brightens the vista of futurity; but they must expect that their fate will be determined sooner or later by intrinsic merit. Those writings that emit no effulgence, and communicate no information, will fall still-born from the press, and plunge at once into the abyss of obscurity. Others again will dazzle as they glide rapidly over the literary horizon, and be seen no more. Some, after basking in the meridian sunshine, will gradually undergo a temporary eclipse; but time will dispense justice, and restore their original splendor.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean's bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

* Humboldt.

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore,
Flames in the fore-head of the morning sky.*

A fortunate few are always in the full blaze of sublime glory. They are the phoenixes of the age-the elect of genius, and the favorites of nature and of heaven.

There is nothing" under heaven's wide hollowness," which does not furnish aliment for the mind. All that we observe by the organs of sense, and all that we perceive by the operations of the understanding-all that we contemplate in retrospect, at the present or in the future, may be compounded or decomposed in the intellectual laboratory, for beneficial purposes. The active mind is always vigilant, always observing. The original images which are created by a vivid imagination-the useful ideas which are called up by memory, and the vigorous advances of the reasoning power into the regions of disquisition and investigation, furnish full employment for the most powerful mind; and after it is fully stored with all the productions of knowledge, then the intellect has to employ its most important functions in digesting and arranging the vast and splendid materials. And if there be any thing in this world which can administer pure delight, it is when we summon our intellectual resources, rally our mental powers, and proceed to the investigation of a subject distinguished for its importance and complexity, and its influence on the destinies of man.

If science were to assume a visible form, like the fabled muses of the ancient mythology, all men would be ready to exclaim with the poet-

Her angel's face,

As the great eye of heaven shined bright,

And made a sunshine in a shady place;

Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.‡

But, alas! it is a blessing not without its alloy. Its sedentary occupations, and its severe exercises of the