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Day, 29th March, hearing the clock strike, Mr. Swedenborg asked his landlady and her maid, who were there, both sitting by his bedside, what it was o'clock, and on being answered it was five o'clock, he replied, 'It is well, I thank you, God bless you both!' and then, a little moment after, gently gave up the ghost." pp. 98-9.

Dr. Hartley, in his last visit to Swedenborg, in company with Dr. Messiter, asked him to declare whether all he had written was strictly true, or whether any part or parts thereof were to be excepted?

"I have written," answered Swedenborg, with a degree of warmth, "nothing but the truth as you will have it more and more confirmed hereafter, all the days of your life, provided you always keep close to the Lord, and faithfully serve him alone, in shunning evils of all kinds as sins against him, and diligently searching the Word, which, from beginning to end, bears incontestible testimony to the truth of the doctrines I have delivered to the world."

7. We now introduce the testimony of the celebrated philosopher, Kant, respecting the fire at Stockholm:

"In the year 1756, says Kant, when M. De Swedenborg, towards the end of September, on Saturday, at 4 o'clock, P.M., arrived at Gottenburg from England, M. William Castel invited him to his house, together with a party of fifteen persons. About 6 o'clock, M. De Swedenborg went out, and, after a short interval, returned to the company, quite pale and alarmed. He said that a dangerous fire had just broken out in Stockholm at the Sudermalm, (Gottenberg is 300 miles from Stockholm,) and that it was spreading very fast. He was restless, and went out often. He said, that the house of one of his friends, whom he named, was already in ashes, and that his own was in danger. At eight o'clock, after he had been out again, he joyfully exclaimed, Thank God! the fire is extinguished the third door from my house. This news occasioned great commotion through the whole city, and particularly amongst the company in which he was. It was announced to the governor the same evening. On the Sunday morning, Swedenborg was sent for by the governor, who questioned him concerning the disaster. He described the fire precisely, how it had begun, in what manner it had ceased, and how long it had been continued. On the same day the news was spread through the city, and as the governor had thought it worthy of attention, the consternation was considerably increased; because many were in trouble on account of their friends and property. On the Monday evening a messenger arrived at Gottenberg, who was despatched during the fire. In the letters brought by him, the fire was described precisely in the manner stated by Swedenborg. On Tuesday morning, the royal courrier arrived at the governor's, with the melancholy intelligence of the fire, of the loss which it had occasioned, and of the houses it had damaged and ruined, not in the least differing from that which Swedenborg had given immediately after it had ceased, for the fire was extinguished at 8 o'clock."

"What," exclaims Kant, "can be brought forward against the authenticity of this occurrence? My informant has not only examined the circumstances of this extraordinary case at Stockholm, but also about two months ago at Gottenberg, where he is acquainted with the most respectable houses, and where he could obtain the most authentic and complete information; as the greatest part of the inhabitants, who are still alive, were witnesses to the memorable occurrence.” pp. 71–2

It would be easy to multiply cases equally remarkable,— but these will suffice. Such testimony would be admitted, be respected, and obtain confidence in any Court in Christendom. Of what does it consist? Not of the solitary declaration of a single individual, whose motives might be suspected, but of a combination of concurring testimonies from different quarters and different persons, of the highest character, so that if there is any force in human testimony at all, we have just as much authority for believing that Swedenborg had intercourse with the spiritual world, as we have for believing that Victoria is the present reigning Queen of Great Britain. The highest of all testimony, however, is that which is drawn from the word of God, and the possibility and probability of such a communication with the spiritual world as was vouchsafed to the gifted Swedenborg, may be successfully demonstrated by arguments derived from that source.

ART. IV. Critical and Miscellaneous Essays. To which are added a few Poems. By ALEXANDER H. EVERETT. Boston: James Munroe & Co. 1845.

We have derived great pleasure from the perusal of this book, and we mean to speak of it as we think it deserves. It is possible that a few readers may think that we go too far; but even they will not doubt our sincerity, when we confess that we were over two months reading it, without growing weary of our task. It certainly argues something in favor of an author in these days of rail-road speed, that one should be content to keep his book at his side, and travel slowly through it, every day soiling the edge of a few more pages, with the pressure of his glove; and it VOL. X.-No. 20.

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takes but little from the value of the compliment to acknowledge, that during this time, we were wandering through a beautiful country, and had but little time to read.

When our trunk was first packed, this book shared a corner, with a half dozen other volumes, but after a while, it had the corner to itself. One by one the others fell away, some were given to friends, others were forgotten upon leaving a steamboat, or a coach, or a rail-road car, and now upon our return, this volume lies upon the desk, as the solitary memorial of our wanderings. Except those books, which have more sacred associations than any earthly travel can give, and which go with the christian everywhere, we have only this volume, to remind us of many a scene of quiet enjoyment. Now, were we an old Spaniard, instead of a young American, we might pause to apostrophise the paper and the type; and sober and modern-minded as we are, we cannot help fancying that we see a sort of map of our travels, upon the edges of the leaves, as they lie closed before us. That dark streak near the beginning, tells us something of the pitch and smoke of the Georgia rail-roads; those yellow splashes, here and there, indicate very plainly that the waters of the great Mississippi have been running not very far off; and as we look, we behold enough to remind us, that the pages have suffered by turns, from contact with the granite dust of Pennsylvania, the clay of Virginia, and the sands of the Carolinas. The journal would have been perfect if the magnolia leaf which Florida contributed, had not slipped from the pages. Our business, however, is not with the outside, though every loving student is, like Scott, something of a coxcomb in these matters; and we proceed to introduce the reader to the inside of this pleasant book.

It consists of essays or reviews, contributed during the last twenty years to various periodicals. In the course of them, our author treats in an interesting and instructive way, of several important matters, such as the Life and Writings of Madame de Sevigné, Bernardin de St. Pierre, Schiller, Voltaire, Canova, Sir James Mackintosh and Cicero; he almost settles the disputed point, that Le Sage did not write Gil Blas; he gives an amusing picture of Chinese manners; teaches, in a happy manner, the art of being happy, and concludes the first part of his miscellanies with some beautiful remarks upon the Sabbath. The large field,

which is thus covered, would of course make it impossible. for any particular portion to be minutely investigated; but it is really wonderful, how many judicious observations he has made upon these various subjects: and although there can be no purely artistic unity among them, yet one is drawn along, by as deep an interest as if there had been. One may listen to an intelligent companion for an evening or a day, and though the conversation may take a wide range, and the manner be sometimes grave and sometimes gay, yet he at no time fails to perceive that the character of the speaker remains unchanged; and so with these Miscellanies of Everett, whatever may be the subject of which they treat, it is evident that they proceed from one mind and heart; that mind well endued with classical learning, and that heart full of kindly impulses, and subject to Christian influences. This is almost as much unity as we ever see, and certainly as much as we need desire. Authors write long essays and call them by single names, when in truth, the subject changes every dozen pages, or the book becomes tedious in the extreme. Pope writes an Essay upon Man and divides it into four epistles. He might just as well have divided it into as many more, and they would have read as well under any other name. We think we could prove, if it were worth while, that Everett's Miscellanies are in an equal degree an essay upon man; but we shall content ourselves with furnishing our readers with the hint, that under this running title, they may apportion the remainder, to "man, as a fool, a gossip, a poet, a historian, a statesman, and so on."

We are aware that there is a growing spirit of opposition to periodical writings, on the ground of their being superficial and fragmentary, and we make these remarks, the rather, because we believe that the true objection lies against superficial thinking on the part of the readers. The largest and most perfectly connected book, that was ever produced, must have been written periodically; for authors, like other men, must eat and sleep. Histories and poems do not come from the press, as Minerva did from the brain of Jupiter, at a single step; and compact as they look in their binding on the shelves, it must be remembered that they once existed in the shape of loose sheets, flitting about the printing office, or swelling out the sides of the bulky portfolio. Smoothly as sentence follows sentence upon the printed page, and

regular as is the interval between chapter and chapter; if the secrets of the study were revealed, it would be seen, that there was many an interruption, and that business, or pleasure, or sickness, or disgust had occupied the author for months, whilst the manuscript was lying hid away in some forgotten drawer. Hood teaches this in a ludicrous manner, in one of his little poems, and every man who has attempted to write has felt it. There being no valid objection to periodical writings on this score, we think they enjoy peculiar advantages, inasmuch as their brevity requires condensation of thought. When a man undertakes to write a long essay, and for this purpose begins to divide and subdivide his subject, we feel like the old Scotch deacon, inclined to look for our night-cap; we have a presentiment that we are about to be put to sleep, and we make our preparations accordingly. We know he is about to treat it as the spider does the fly, and we bide our time, until the infinite web is wound around the legs and wings and eyes of the unhappy subject, and we only look in again, when he is about to make a stab at the vitals. Now an essayist like Mackintosh, Macaulay, or our author, never tempts us in this way. They rush at once into the midst of things. We find that we must wake up, if we would understand what they are about. Our perceptive faculties are kept constantly on the stretch, and when we get to the end, we feel invigorated and refreshed, as if we had been contending with the breakers, and not lying half asleep in luke-warm water. Let a man think when he reads, and he will sometimes find, in a scrap of newspaper, the germ of important truths, as the philosopher does in the falling of an acorn or an apple. Let a man think, and he will derive more real instruction from a well digested article in a review, than from many a larger volume of greater pretensions.

In these writings of Everett, there are two styles which predominate; in one, he proceeds upon the Horatian maxim of teaching the truth laughingly; in the other, he approaches his subject more directly, and in good set terms delivers himself of what he has to say; and perhaps we cannot enable our readers to obtain a just appreciation of the whole, in any better way, than by giving them a specimen of each.

Some Frenchman, who rejoices in the name of Droz, and who is an honorable member of the Academy, chose to write a foolish book upon the art of being happy; and

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