observations. Tracy respected, Bayard admired, and Ames eulogized her. All parties had the fullest belief in the purity of her motives and in the elevation of her understanding.

It was a stormy period, and the world went wrong. Fatigue and anguish often overwhelmed the president from the weight and multiplicity of his labours and cares; but her sensibility, affection, and cheerfulness chased the frown from his brow and plucked the root of bitterness from his heart. To those who see matters of state at a distance, or only through the medium of letters, all things seem to go on fairly and smoothly; but those, practically acquainted with the difficulties in administering the best of governments, will easily understand how much necessity there is for the wisdom of the serpent united with the gentleness of the dove; and they too can comprehend how much the delicate interference of a delicate woman can effect. Pride, vanity, and selfishness are full of claims and exactions, all bustling and importunate for office and distinction. Peremptory denial produces enmity and confusion, but gentle evasion and cautious replies soften the hearts of the restless and temper the passions of the sanguine. An intelligent woman of address can control these repinings and hush these murmurings with much less sacrifice or effort than men. A women knows when to apply the unction of soft words, without forgetting her dignity or infringing on a single principle, which the most scrupulous would wish to maintain.. Mrs. Adams calmed these agitations of disappointment, healed the rankling wounds of offended pride, and left them in admiration of her talents and in love with her sincerity.

Notwithstanding these numerous duties and great exertions, as the wife of a statesman, Mrs. Adams did not forget that she was a parent. She had several children, and felt in them the pride and interest, if she did not make the boast, of the mother of the Gracchi.

Many women fill important stations with the most splendid display of virtues; but few are equally great in retirement; there they want the animating influence

of a thousand eyes and the inspiration of homage and flattery. This is human nature in its common form, and the exception is honourable and rare. Mrs. Adams, in rural seclusion at Quincy, was the same dignified, sensible, and happy woman, as when surrounded by fashion, wit, and intellect. No hectic of resentment, no pangs of regret were ever discovered by her, while indulging in the retrospection of an eventful life in these shades of retirement. Her conversation showed the same lively interest in the passing occurrences as though she had retired for a day only, and was to have returned on the morrow to take her share in the business and pleasures of political existence. There was no trick, no disguise in this. It arose from a settled and perfectly philosophical and christian contentment, which great and pious minds only can feel. Serenity, purity, and elevation of thought preserve the faculties of the mind from premature decay, and, indeed, keep them vigorous in old age. To such the lapse of time is only the change of the the shadow on the dial of life. The hours which are numbered and gone, are noticed, but their flight does not "chill the genial current of the soul." Religious thankfulness for the past, and faith in assurances for the future-that mortal shall put on immortality-make the last drop in the cup of existence clear, sweet, and sparkling.

When the biographer of a future age shall do justice to the characters of the illustrious women of our country, Mrs. Adams will be found conspicuous on his page, as a dutiful daughter, an excellent wife, a kind, affectionate, and careful mother; one, who lived long and did much, who discharged the duties of common life with faithfulness and alacrity, and filled the highest stations with success and honour; one, who, though a politician, "could be defended from the cradle to the grave," and who, though a philosopher, had no doubts of the christian religion.

Mr. Adams is now far advanced into the vale of years, and must feel his loss as irreparable; but he is too wise to repine, and has too much to be grateful for

to be cast down. The wife of his youth lived with him for more than half a century. With her in his heart and in his hand he "sounded all the depths and shoals of honour." While he mourns her loss, her virtues will crowd on his soul, clothed in colours made brighter by death. This patriarch is now turned of eighty and possesses his intellectual faculties in an extraordinary deree. May they long continue to be fresh and vigorous, that he may give to the world the mental portraits of his cotemporaries, and illustrations of our history. In him the lamp of life seems to burn more vividly as he gathers the gems which oblivion was about to receive. The genius of the sage is every where respected, and his long and important services to his country every where acknowledged; but our last gaze shall be on his domestic virtues; for they were the brightest in the constellation of his merits. Moral and religious principles, and pure and virtuous affections are indestructible; God has put on them the value of his promise, and the seal of eternity.

OBITUARY NOTICE OF REV. F. A. MATIGNON..
[New-England Galaxy.]

THE Reverend FRANCIS ANTHONY MATIGNON, D. D. who died in Boston, on the 19th of September, 1818, was born in Paris, Nov. 10, 1753. Devoted to letters and religion from his earliest youth, his progress was rapid and his piety conspicuous. He attracted the notice of the learned faculty as he passed through the several grades of classical and theological studies; and having taken the degree of bachelor of divinity, he was ordained a Priest, on Saturday, the 19th of September, 1778, the very day of the month and week, which, forty years after, was to be his last. In the year 1782, he was admitted a licentiate, and received the degree of doctor of divinity from the college of the Sorbonne in 1785. At this time he was appointed regius professor of divinity in the college of Navarre, in which seminary he performed his duties for several years, although. his state of health was not good..

His talents and piety had recommended him to the notice of a prelate in great credit, (the cardinal de Brienne) who obtained for him the grant of an annuity from the king, Louis XVI. which was sufficient for all his wants, established him in independence, and took away all anxiety for the future. But the ways of

Providence are inscrutable to the wisest and best of the children of men. The revolution, which dethroned his beloved monarch, and stained the altar of his God with the blood of holy men, drove Dr. Matignon an exile from his native shores. He fled to England, where he remained several months, and then returned to France to prepare for a voyage to the United States. He landed in Baltimore, and was appointed, by Bishop Carroll, pastor of the catholic church in Boston, at which place he arrived, August 20, 1792.

The talents of Doctor Matignon were of the highest order. In him were united a sound understanding, a rich and vigorous imagination, and a logical precision of thought. His learning was extensive, critical and profound, and all his productions were deeply cast, symmetrically formed, and beautifully coloured. The fathers of the church and the great divines of every age were his familiar friends. His divinity was not merely speculative, nor merely practical; it was the blended influence of thought, feeling, and action. He had learned divinity as a scholar, taught it as a profess or, felt it as a worshiper, and diffused it as a faithful pastor. His genius and his virtues were understood; for the wise bowed to his superior knowledge and the humble caught the spirit of his devotions. With the unbelieving and doubtful he reasoned with the mental strength of the apostle Paul; and he charmed back the penitential wanderer with the kindness and affection of John the Evangelist. His love for mankind flowed in the purest current, and his piety caught a glow from the intensity of his feeling. Rigid and scrupulous to himself, he was charitable and indulgent to others. To youth, in a particular manner, he was forgiving and fatherly. With him the tear of penitence washed away the stains of error; for he had gone

up to the fountains of human nature, and knew all its weaknesses. Many, retrieved from folly and vice, can bear witness how deeply he was skilled in the science of paternal government; that science so little understood, and, for want of which, so many evils arise. It is a proof of a great mind not to be soured by misfortunes nor narrowed by any particular pursuit. Doctor Matignon, if possible, grew milder and more indulgent as he advanced in years. The storms of life had broken the heart of the man, but out of its wounds gushed the tide of sympathy and universal christian charity. The woes of life crush the feeble, make more stupid the dull, and more vindictive the proud; but the great mind and contrite soul are expanded with purer bencvolence, and warmed with brighter hopes, by suffering-knowing that through tribulation and anguish the diadem of the saint is won.

To him, whose heart has sickened at the selfishness of mankind, and who has seen the low and trifling pursuits of the greater proportion of human beings, it is sweet and refreshing to contemplate the philosopher, delighted with visions of other worlds and ravished with the harmonies of nature, pursuing his course abstracted from the bustle around him; but how much nobler is the course of the moral and christian philosopher, who teaches the ways of God to man. He holds a holy communion with heaven, walks with the Creator in the garden at every hour in the day, without wishing to hide himself. While he muses, the spirit burns within him, and the high influences of the inspiration force him to proclaim to the children of men the deep wonders of divine love.

But this contemplation must give angels pleasure when they behold this purified and elevated being dedicating his services, not to the mighty, not to the wise, but to the humblest creatures of sorrow and suffering. Have we not seen our friend leaving these sublime contemplations and entering the habitations of want and wo? relieving their temporal necessities, administering the consolations of religion to the despairing soul in the agonies of dissolution? yes, the sons of the