ful, overweening prudence. These are men who hold, and who dare to exercise, the mighty prerogative of genius. They have minds full of energy and high aspirings, trying hazardous flights, and sustaining themselves long and gloriously. The poetical vein grows excellent by use; and these have shown, from an early and first beginning, the germs of that power, which, by exercise, gave them in its maturity a wide sway in the intellectual world. These are the suns of their spheres,-stars of the first magnitude,—fixed, and shining with a steady brightness; others are but satellites, changing and vacillating in their orbits, with a pale and borrowed light. These last are poets of the second class,-poets who are afraid to follow the waywardness of fancy, but, in the spirit of weighing and measuring, give all diligence to suit their writings to the spirit of the age they live in, and bring down every thing to an unambitious level. They grow old in aping the ways of better writers, the faults and follies of genius. We see in them a constant effort to familiarize the mind to a preciseness of thought and a nicety of style, a constant fashioning of all things by favourite models,-which we call the good breeding of poetry. True poets embody and give form to the fine thoughts which are passing through their minds; but these men, like mere painters, only animate those forms, which have long existed in every one's fancy. They die in imitating, and they are forgotten by imitating!

These are poets; and common-sense men differ widely from them. It has lately been my good fortune to meet with one of these plain, on-going men in the affairs of life,- -a man of good desert, a studious observer of the world and its changes,-who, from a well saved experience has gained something of a prophetic foresight into the things of the world. "Although," said he, "it is idle for men to speculate much concerning futurity, yet there is in the history of every nation a kind of prophecy of what its history will be hereafter. Each age, indeed, has its peculiar and distinguishing character; but the spirit of the times may be traced back to the gradual operation of causes in former times, and will hereafter be found to have exerted its influence in giving character to succeeding periods. The spirit of the present age, in our own country, is a spirit of intelligence and activity; and is such as our fathers predicted would arise from their firmness and sufferings. What the character of the succeeding age will be, may be foretold from the many causes, which we see in operation for the gradual increase of mental power in our country; and the thorough removal of ancient errors, that are fast wearing out of the world." There was an energy in the speaker's manner, that gave force to what he uttered; and I found, that, although a thorough-going, matter-offact man, he still entertained that high respect for the ornamental arts of life, which originates in a well ordered taste and a due

degree of natural sensibility. From him I shall trace in its outlines the character of the common-sense man.

It is a position laid down by many writers on education, that nothing but nature can fit a man for "learning;" and that without a peculiar temperament for the pursuits he engages in, application, however close and long continued, is to no purpose. But this is an opinion, which bears too closely upon human happiness to be embraced without some limitation. It seems to give countenance to the idea, that we should cherish some one mental power to the neglect of all the rest, an idea harmonizing well with our inclinations and our indolence; when, at the same time we know that system of education to be alone perfect, which develops and cherishes equally every faculty of the mind, giving light, and life, and vigor to all. And it is here that we may mark the first characteristic of the common-sense man. Though he has not the superiority of one intellectual faculty, which we call genius, yet there is within his mind, that beautiful proportion and exact balance of its powers, which, from their several relations, produce a harmonious whole. This fits him for the business of life, and for its enjoyment; for keeping up that just equipoise of his passive impressions and active principles, which will keep his sympathies from ending in feeling.

The common-sense man is a deliberate, thinking man; grown cautious from his treasured wisdom in human affairs,-always consistent with himself, and true to his own character. The world is full of those who are precipitate in forming their opinions, and equally precipitate in changing them. So emphatically are they the creatures of circumstances, that we have no evidence of their being to-morrow what we have found them to be to-day. But the common-scuse man forms his opinions with a cool, discriminating judgment, and when once embraced, keeps them with a saving faith. He has directed his mind to those practical pursuits, which have so wide a bearing upon the state of society, and with a cautious prudence has treasured up facts for his future benefit. He has done good to society both from speculation and from action. His theories rest upon facts, and their truth is known by their practical application. This constitutes the useful virtue of human prudence. When a man speculates upon the future circumstances of the world, and gives us tidings of what will be from what has already been, he must have closely studied human affairs, lest future realities should contradict his prophecy. And if he has turned faithfully over the volumes of nature, and has grown wise from the study of what he there found, we have a well grounded assurance, that whatever he shall say concerning things to be hereafter, in reasoning from present circumstances, will be at least an approximation to the truth.

It is an objection to the exclusive and devoted study of a favourite profession, that it limits those wide and liberal views of mankind and of worldly doings, which the mind should be led to embrace; and brings men to think that every thing of public utility may be traced to their own pursuits. But the experience of the common-sense man is continually widening the field of his views, and giving liberality to his opinions.

The common-sense man, then, is one who is really experienced in human ways, and who knows how to apply his knowledge to the increase of human happiness. Nor is this all. He is active in the right exercise of that power, which one individual has over the happiness of many,-going out into the busy world, engaging cheerfully in the cares and enjoyments of life,-mingling with society, speaking in good faith the thoughts of a good mind. Few of us have time and opportunity to form our own opinions of men and things. We take them, and we must take them, from others; and we reverence the character of the common-sense man in so readily embracing his, and in doing as he has done. Thus in the credit of his opinions, and the imitation of his actions, we see his influence upon society. The virtue of a good name has given reputation to his thoughts and actions,-the excellence of a good character has led men to honour and to imitate them. Has he enjoyed life well? He has shown us the means of that enjoyment existing in well regulated feelings and affections. Has he prospered in the world? He has shown us, in his honourable precepts and honest dealings, the way of that prosperity.

THE LAY MONK,

POETRY,

HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER.

The standard of Count Pulaski, the noble Pole who fell in the attack upon Savannah, during the American Revolution, was of crimson silk, embroidered by the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem in Pennsylvania. See N. A. Review, New Series, vol. XI. p. 390.

When the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head,
And the censer burning swung,
Where before the altar hung

The proud banner, that with prayer

Had been consecrated there.

And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim mysterious aisle.

Take thy banner!-may it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave,
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the sabbath of our vale,-
When the clarion's music thrills
To the hearts of these lone hills,-
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks,
Take thy banner!—and beneath
The war-cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it-till our homes are free-
Guard it-God will prosper thee!
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then
Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquished warrior bow,
Spare him!-by our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,

Spare him-he our love hath shared-
Spare him as thou wouldst be spared!

Take thy banner!-and if e'er

Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
And the muffled drum should beat

To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be
Martial cloak and shroud for thee!

And the warrior took that banner proud,
And it was his martial cloak and shroud.

H. W. L.

LOVE ASLEEP.

Wake him not, he dreams of bliss;
His little lips put forth to kiss;
His arms, entwined in virgin grace,
Seem linked in beautiful embrace.

He smiles, and on his opening lip
Might saints refresh and angels sip;
He blushes, 't is the rosy light
That morning wears on leaving night.

He sighs, 't is not the sigh of wo;
He only sighs that he may know
If kindred sighs another move;
For mutual sighs are signs of love.

He speaks, it is his dear one's name ;
He whispers, still it is the same;
The imprisoned accents strive in vain,
They murmur through his lips again.

He wakes! the silly little boy,
To break the mirror thus of joy;
He wakes to sorrow, and in pain;

Oh! Love, renew thy dreams again.

C.

SONG.

'Tis the season of joy and delight,

The season of fresh-springing flowers;
Young Spring in her innocent beauty is bright,
And leads on the rapturous hours;

Fair Nature is loud in her transport of pleasure,
The woods and the vallies re-echo her lay;
The robin now warbles his love-breathing measure,

And scatters the blossoms while tilting the spray;
One impulse of tenderness thrills through the groves,
While the birds carol sweetly their innocent loves.

How mild is the Zephyr that blows!

What fragrance his balmy wings bear

He breathes as if fearful to brush from the rose
The dew-drops so tremulous there!

The stream flowing gently beside the green cresses
So lightsomely dashes their tendrils away—

She seems some fond mother, who, while she caresses,
Would sportfully chide her young children at play.
Hear the minstrel-bee lulling the blossoms to rest,
For the nectar he sips as the wild-flowers' guest!

Look out then on Nature awhile,

Observe her inviting thee now,— Benevolence beams in her sun-shiny smile,

And blandishment sits on her brow:

Come stray with me, love, where the fountains are flowing, And wild flowers cluster to drink of the stream;

While watching the lily and daffodil blowing,

No moment of bliss shall so exquisite seem; While Nature invites thee, oh! why then delay; While Joy is still waking, away! love, away!

D.