expedients for the extension of human good. But if genius be restricted to "the power of discovery or of creative invention," whether in philosophy or the arts, they who have most closely examined Dr. Good's works will be least inclined to claim for him that distinction. Be this, however, as it may, there can be no question that his intellectual powers were of the first order, that, in the main, they were nicely equipoised, and that he could exercise them with an unusual buoyancy and elasticity. His memory was very extraordinary; doubtless much aided by the habits of arrangement, so firmly established, as the reader will recollect, by sedulous parental instruction. His early acquired fondness for classical and elegant literature, laid his youthful fancy open to the liveliest impressions, and made him draw

"The inspiring breath of ancient arts,

and tread the sacred walks,

Where, at each step, imagination burns:"

and this, undoubtedly, again aided his memory; the pictures being reproduced by constant warmth of feeling. The facility with which on all occasions (as I have probably before remarked) he could recall and relate detached and insulated facts, was peculiarly attractive and not less useful. But the reason is very obvious. However diverse, and even exuberant, the stores of his knowledge often appeared, the whole were methodized and connected together in his memory by principles of association that flowed from the real nature of things; in other words, philosophical principles, by means of which the particular truths are

classified in order under the general heads to which they really belong; serving effectually to endow the mind that thoroughly comprehends the principles with an extensive command over those particular truths, whatever be their variety or their importance.

With the mathematical sciences he was almost entirely unacquainted; but, making this exception, there was scarcely a region of human knowledge which he had not entered, and but few, indeed, into which he had not made considerable advances; and wherever he found an entrance, there he retained a permanent possession;-for, to the last, he never forgot what he once knew.

In short-had he published nothing but his "Translation of Lucretius," he would have acquired a high character for free, varied, and elegant versification, for exalted acquisitions as a philosopher and as a linguist, and for singular felicity in the choice and exhibition of materials in a rich store of critical and tasteful illustration.

Had he published nothing but his "Translation of the Book of Job," he would have obtained an eminent station amongst Hebrew scholars, and the promoters of biblical criticism.

And, had he published nothing but his "Study of Medicine," his name would, in the opinion of one of his ablest professional correspondents, have "gone down to posterity, associated with the science of medicine itself, as one of its most skilful practitioners, and one of its most learned promoters."

I know not how to name another individual who has arrived at equal eminence in three such totally distinct departments of mental application. Let this be duly

weighed in connexion with the marked inadequacy of his early education (notwithstanding its peculiar advantages in some respects) to form either a scientific and skilful medical practitioner, or an excellent scholar, and there cannot but result a high estimate of the original powers with which he was endowed, and of the inextinguishable ardour with which, through life, he augmented their energy and enlarged their sphere of action.

SECTION III.

A DEVELOPEMENT OF DR. GOOD'S RELIGIOUS CHARACTER, ILLUS. TRATED BY EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTERS, AND HIS OWN UNPUBLISHED WRITINGS.

IF, in a country excursion, we meet a peasant, and are told that he is a hearty eater, an active walker, and a sound sleeper, we receive the information with the same indifference as we should if it were given relative to a horse, or other animal, that was passing at the same moment; but if, in addition, we are informed that this peasant has written elegant poetry, or composed some beautiful music, or translated several of Horace's odes, or made himself master of the theory of astronomy, we gaze upon him with a very different interest. And why is this, but because we find that instead of spending his life in merely exercising the functions of the body, or indulging the appetites and senses, he has learnt to exercise the intellectual faculties? The obvious superiority of the mind to the body, accounts for our deeper interest in the supposed case; and, in like manner, for the solicitude with which we commonly listen to relations of the habits, the peculiarities, the general appearance, and the disposition, as well as the mode of study, of those who have become distinguished for literary or scientific knowledge. This is all well, as far as it goes; but unless it advance one step farther, it is sadly defective, notwith

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standing. When we recognize the distinction between the body and the mind, and mark the inferiority of the former, the superiority of the latter, have we done every thing that philosophy, or even common sense, requires; Why have we neglected to bring into our estimate that essence of "the Divinity that stirs within us;" that awful all-pervading sentiment, which, independently of our own spontaneity, nay, in spite of it, intermingles the "longing after immortality" with the dread of futurity; that which makes a man feel, let him acknowledge it or not, that " he shall give an account of the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil?" The distinction between the faculties of man as an accountable being, and his attributes as an intellectual being, is as palpable, and as difficult to be evaded by inquirers who deal fairly with themselves and with their species, as the distinction between mind and matter, or the active energy of thought, and the inertia of a stone. Let the veriest sceptic attempt to reduce the power of conscience, for example, to a mere intellectual principle, that shall have no reference to a Supreme Governor and the universal Judge, and he will find it as impossible as to refer the phenomena of the tides to the force of imagination, or those of an eclipse to the creative speculations of a man of genius.

Man is as certainly a creature endowed with moral responsibility, as he is a being possessed of a body to be moved, and a mind to regulate the motions by its own volition. He is constituted to be a religious being; it is his grand distinction, and all around him, duly used, and contemplated with a right mind, invites him to it. Wherever we turn our eyes,—to the