WITHOUT apology for their deficiencies, and with no promise other than to do the best they can, a new Board of Editors comes before you. If our Periodical for the coming year sinks below the standard of the past, the Editors bear not the blame ;-if that standard is raised higher, they will claim no praise. We propose to have the joint-stock character of our Magazine more fully and more practically brought out, than it has been heretofore. If Amherst College, in this day of her prosperity, cannot sustain, and well sustain, a monthly publication of thirty-two pages. the community ought to know it. It is time to prove, that her training, so well adapted to make thorough scholars, is equally well adapted to make sterling men. Hence, we submit, that the five who happen to have the direction of this Magazine, ought to be held responsible for their own productions only. Their literary judgment as manifested in the selection of pieces, is, of course, exempt from criticism; for the reader can never know how often they may have been forced to Hobson's choice. It is not from a desire to shirk responsibility too hastily incurred, that we have spoken thus earnestly; but we feel that it is just, that college should be answerable for the character of the Magazine ;-and could we, by this means, arouse that esprit-du-corps for the institution, which is so keenly alive between its rival halls, we should feel sure of presenting on every page something worthy the reputation of our College in other respects. A word as to the object and pretensions of the Magazine. Its prime object is well known: "the literary advancement of its contributors." But we hope, that some of the other objects of a periodical can be attained. And, unless other objects are, at least, aimed at, we can expect but little for the first. To trace out some new relation of established principles;-to set some old truth in a clear light, and give it more impressive power;-to bring to practical use the treasures of youthful imaginations ;-to rouse the listless spirit by the enthusiasm of youthful hopes and plans;-these we deem the peculiar province of young writers, and as such, legitimate objects of our Indicator: by pursuing these, our contributors will make real advancement; by attaining them, we shall escape the rebuke, if we win not the praise, of all generous criticism. We cannot better sum up our hopes in this respect, than in the words of a Divine of our own country ;—a man, by the way, of rare modesty, and merit just as rare :-" A work of inferior claims may find readers, and do much good, in consequence of local circumstances, drawing attention to its pages, when all others would be overlooked. Vessels of moderate draught may go up the tributary streams of public thought, and deal advantageously with the minds of men, where others of heavier tonnage could never reach." But with whatever cargo we may be intrusted, by our owners, be assured, that the pilotage shall be discharged to the best of their ability, by THE EDITORS. WHERE ARE THE DEAD? Karr MAN, lord of creation though he be, is in one respect, weak, to an extent that has scarce a parallel in Nature. The forest tree, whose leaves have kissed for many summers, the sister leaves of neighboring boughs, blooms fresh as ever, when its partner has been blasted by the lightning stroke. Where earthquakes have rent through a mountain range, one hoary peak, year after year, will look serenely down upon the fallen peak below; though they have stood for ages, side-by-side, and smiled together in Creation's dawning. Not so with man. He never learns to stand alone. If one frail reed breaks off, he leans the heavier on others; if all decay, he goes halting and sad through life. It is to this amiable weakness of our Nature, we would impute the belief, so strong in many hearts, that our best loved friends are not torn from us even by the iron hand of Death. We cannot deem this a mere superstition; for it has found entrance into the strongest minds. Neither must it be confounded with the creations of vivid imaginations. Poesy has indeed ever been allowed to have dominion here, and summon at her need the spirits of the dead. But, these are mere imaginings, and as such, take hold only on poetic minds. But, in every day life, and in a busy, worldly age; while tutelar saints are invoked only by the demagogue, and shades of heroes are held by public opinion, in about as high esteem as are the demigods of yore, men will yet have it, that their family circles are never really broken up by death. If he has made vacant places at their firesides, there is only wider room for his victims in their hearts. If the veil of flesh has been rent away, they fondly imagine a closer communion of spirits. Shall streams that gushed from the same silver spring, and sported in infancy, in the same morning shades, be lost to one another in life's scorching noon? Not so. If one has vanished in the sands, it has only sought by channels underground, to mingle with the other, and have no bank between. The shades of evening shall find them rolling together to the sea. But, beautiful and consoling as this belief is, we cannot reconcile it with our ideas of the better land. We shall make no attempt at demonstration on this subject; for who can pierce the shadows of the tomb? Nor do we claim, that Earth has never been revisited by those who have once left its precincts. But with the Bible record of such special missions before our eyes, we yet conceive that the Scripture view of Heaven is not consistent with the belief that departed friends, in general, have an angelic mission to their survivors. And it seem to us, to conflict with other emotions of our own hearts. It is alike the teaching of Scripture, and the sentiment of mankind, that the grave is a place of rest. On every page of the sacred volume, its Author has brought out this thought. Now, his people are his children, and he tells them of mansions in their Father's house; now, they are Pilgrims, and he bids them hasten to their journey's end; now they are Soldiers, and he points to peaceful days when their campaigns are over. And we too, naturally associate weariness with old age; and over the graves where patriarchs lie buried, unconsciously repeat the sacred declaration : "There is a time to die." "But many die in the freshness of their youth, and long before they have been worn with toil. Why should those rest who have never been weary?" For a large part of our race, a mournful voice has told us: "There is no rest," die when they may. But, over such we sorrow without hope, and never fancy, that they guard our steps. It is the good only, who can return to the scenes whence they were prematurely taken, and why should they be tired? The broken shafts that mark our grave-yards, tell of many a heart that leaped to enter on a joyous field of action, and passed away, untaught by disappointment to look only upward. Why should not such come back to learn the full lesson of life, and learn it practically, so that when all the fold they left are reunited, they too may say in the deep tones of long Experience: "Whom have we in heaven but thee; there is none on Earth that we desire besides ?" Ah! we forget, that whatever be the sorrows these have fled, they have yet had to meet the King of Terrors; and the bright scenes of Earth are sombre now; for they look at them through the shadows of the grave. And we forget that no true soldier ever gained place among the chosen host, or ever kept that place, without a struggle. These inward conflicts too, are hard conflicts; a single day wears out the young recruit, and it is only because the great Leader is ever renewing their strength, that any grey-haired veterans are marshalled on these lower plains. Again, we conceive it to be the feeling of the human heart as well as the Scripture teaching, that this rest is immediate. Whatever room there may be for the discussion of an intermediate state, we are sure that the doctrine of a Romish Purgatory or a Philosophical Hades never had its origin in an afflicted heart. And pending the disputes on different shades of meaning in Greek and Hebrew roots, we take the plain rendering of the greatest scholars of modern times; and so rest content with the promise given to the dying thief, by one who surely knew: "Verily I say unto thee, To-day shall thou be with me in Paradise." Again, angels are everywhere mentioned in the Bible, as the ministering spirits to Earth, and why should departed friends be better fitted for this mission? In all the sufferings of the God-man on Earth, we read of no support from any of our race, although it was his human nature that felt every pang. "But, angels are strangers to us; they cannot share our feelings; their love to man is deep, but it regards the whole race; they cannot feel in this or that individual, an interest so absorbing as those who once made part of his being here." But, we suspect that in all that is noble and generous in our nature, angels are beings of like passions as we. They are not mere intelligences; they have hearts; and heart is the same thing in Heaven and on Earth. And where hearts are, there is sympathy; and angels must rejoice, not only in the prospect of our everlasting joy, but in all the daily sunshine of our course on Earth. There's not one chastened smile that flits across the spirit here, which is not mirrored back from spirits pure from every selfish stain; there's not a moan of suffering so low, that it cannot find echo in the deep heart of Heaven. 'Twas near the setting sun, and many a league beyond the western limits of old Rome's dominion, that the ancients fixed the spirit-home ;-but every breeze that cooled the burning sands of Afric's shore was felt, too, over the blue sea, and fanned immortal brows in the "islands of the blessed." Had our departed friends no other objects of their fond regard, they could not bear to us a warmer love than those, who are charged with special mission from the very source of love; and who come, breathing the spirit of that Friend on high, "who sticketh closer than a brother." But, do our friends gaze from beyond the tomb with the same, unchanging, anxious look as in this world? Have even those best of words, mother,'' sister,'' wife,' the same strong meaning in the land beyond the grave? This brings us to another point. 6 Death is a great change. True, there is the same infinite superiority in our relations to God over all other relations, at every point in our existence. But, our relations to those about us are better ap preciated, and more strongly felt here. The veil of flesh is a connecting link between Earthly friends, but it is a separater between us and Heaven. Beyond the grave, a brighter, broader view of all its relations, bursts upon the spirit. All things are viewed in their just proportions; and that which is infinitely the greatest object must become the object of most aborbing interest. And the dying seem to feel that they are on the threshold of an entirely new existence. With how much deeper emphasis do they bid us farewell than we do them! They feel that other and greater objects are to occupy their |