painful incarceration, because he dared to say

revolved round the sun.

66

Why stand ye he into heaven?" was the text which bigotry ar chose from which to preach when he was con on which it dared to rebuke the great spirit afraid to contemplate the wonderful works of C allude here, without impropriety, to the "noble martyrs," to the "confessors" and the perse times; to those whose names were once cove proach and infamy. Yet who will live in t grateful recollection of mankind like they who establishment of the Christian religion? The they did was worth all which it cost; and as fa ful recollection will be a recompense, the world them. Is it improper to say, also, that if the on the banks of the little lake of Genesareth t ize the religion of the world, and who had such as no other men ever had, had wished widest reputation, and to secure the longest gra brance, they chose the very path which wisdom selected the path through reproaches, and scorn? Columbus, too, lived and died amidst taunted as a wild projector, and then abandon and want when success had placed him at the age. But he will live-live, not because the ma place where he sleeps in the new world whi vered, but live in every lovely village, in ev city, in every splendid capital, in every kingdom that shall ever rise up in the vast hemisphere w closed. Such men have a reputation which It grows brighter; never wanes. Wickednes a splendid monument, but who will go and rel

namy,

at they ma

nt times? None. But on the humble tablet in the hills Scotland, you may see zeal, and devotion, and love going om place to place with no hope of fame or reward,.to at deeper the names of Richard Cameron, and of those who ved and died like him. "Old Mortality" is the emblem of e gratitude and generous feeling of man. He was not e creation of fiction; but had he been, the fiction would ave been one of the most just and beautiful that the splend genius that has now made him immortal could have inented. He represents man-man, self-denying, disinterest, generous and just, in this thing at least, in keeping up the membrance of those whose names ought not to be left - die.

A man who is always defending his reputation will have nough to do, and will usually have no reputation that is orth the trouble of defence. He who is willing to comit his name and memory to the course of events, content ith the small measure of notice which is due to an indidual, will not find the world slow to do him justice. Let m do his duty; let him lead an upright life; let him make e best use of his talents, and God will take care of his putation, and will assign to him the place, in the estimaon of mankind, which may be his due.

Of the correctness of the principle which I have been deavouring to illustrate, there will probably be no differace of opinion. It may be asked, however, in what way is that the course of events so shape themselves as to O justice to a man's reputation, and how it is that his me may rise above calumny and detraction? I know at a man pursuing an upright and an honourable course ay be overwhelmed with reproaches. I know that the ngue of slander, whose "breath outworms all the worms

be left to die. The sun, that seemed most bri the meridian, may sink behind a dark cloud; appear that the name is to be handed over to famy. How shall it be rescued? What in come up to remove that cloud, and restore the deserved lustre? Can a man safely commit h to the keeping of others, and believe that justice him when he is dead?

I answer these questions by observing, that on which the calumniated and the injured ma Look at the change which is made in the view of a man when he dies. Look at the great a law of our nature, by which, the moment w leaves the clay tenement, the world is ready to the cold remains of the injured man, and to his name.

The grave-how it silences the voice of de calumny; how it changes faults to foibles, a weaknesses! De mortuis nihil nisi bonum, is that speaks out the natural language of the and will do so to the end of time. It is the of law of our nature, by which death brings relief the virtue of the departed, and covers u -and the design is as benignant as the law It is, to teach us to exhibit to others in life n ing than that which we would love to cheris go and stand by the grave of friend or foe-to show to others that love "which suffereth long which is not easily provoked, and which thin which beareth all things, endureth all things, things, hopeth all things,"—and which we nev we evinced to friend or foe, when he dies.

4

ho can look down, even upon the grave of an enemy, and feel a compunctious throb that ever he should have rred with the poor handful of earth that now lies moulring before him? But the grave of those we lovedat a place for meditation! There it is we call up in long view the whole history of the truth and gentleness, and e thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheard the daily course of intimacy; there it is we dwell upon e tenderness of the parting scene; the bed of death, with its stifled grief; its noiseless attendants; its most watchassiduities—the last testimonials of expiring love-the eble, fluttering, thrilling-Oh how thrilling is the beating the pulse-the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning on us from the threshold of existence-the faint, faltering cent struggling in death to give one more assurance of ection. Ah! go to the grave of buried love, and medite! There settle the account, with thy conscience, of ery past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, no never, never can be soothed by contrition. If thou art child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furw to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou t a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ntured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moent of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend, and st injured by thought, word, or deed, the spirit that geneusly confided in thee; if thou art a lover, and hast ever ven one unmerited pang to the true heart that now lies Id beneath thy feet, then be sure, that every unkind look, ery ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come conging back upon thy memory, and knock dolefully at y soul; be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and penting on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour

tions of that great law which I am illustratin world will do ultimate justice to a man's chara putation.

Further, time brings out the character. It which was dark; gives consistency to that wh doubtful; and removes that which envy, and hatred accumulated around the name. The z leads men to calumniate, and envy attempts to reputation; but the zeal of party soon dies av next generation has no occasion to envy. We the dead, but the living. We feel no envy of Epar Pericles, or Fabius. Not a living bosom envie Virgil, or Tasso, or Milton. No one will ever en ton. You could not constrain the next generat forward the work of envy which may be begun would the coming age turn aside from its em finish a work of detracton. Envy is the work of tion only; admiration of genius, and talent, and r is the work of man as man, and flows on to all c

There is one other thought. It is not hu only; not the course of events only; not the of justice in the human bosom only that is s character, and transmit a good name onward Great Being who presides over all events, and man such a reputation or reward, here or he just. Enduring reputation arises from the fa ven, and from dependence on the Great Dispe and crowns, rather than on man.

You are all familiar with the interesting less

* Irving.