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rich material by assiduous labor. How a single word makes a sentence luminous !

At liquidi fontes

irriguumque bibant violaria fontem.

What a rich landscape the soul drinks in, where he says:

Claudite jam rivos, pueri: sat prata biberunt!

His power of imitating sense by sound, has often been remarked. One of the most striking, is the hammer and anvil:

Illi inter sese multa vi brachia tollunt

In numerum.

Lest any ardent young genius should imagine that he can dispense with this careful polishing, it will be well to refer to the example of Byron, who, the most impetuous writer that ever took pen in hand, was yet indebted to after-touches for some of the finest effects in his poems. We are tempted to give an example. It is from his celebrated description of Greece. We give first the original draft, and then the corrected form:

And give to loneliness delight.
And lend to loneliness delight.

And if at times a transient breeze
Break the smooth crystal of the seas.
Break the blue crystal of the seas.

Or brush one blossom from the trees.
Or sweep one blossom from the trees.

The improvement in the melody and distinctness, by the change of a single word, is wonderful.

7. A great favorite with us, among the Latin poets, is Juvenal. He illustrates the power of the language in poetic declamation, rich diction, and passionate invective. His zeal appears to be that of a reformer. His language, when immodest, never seems intended to seduce to licentiousness, as does that of Horace at times; it but shows the feeling of the fierce moralist, who cannot away with the abominations of his time.

The tributes to virtue are noble, the scourging of vice admirable-we had almost said delicious. Our souls go with the lash; and we feel that meanness and villany, the assassin of character, and the contemptible wretch who crawls into favor with one that he may trail his slime over the reputation of another, as well as those guilty of more open though hardly worse crimes, have for once met the man who has the ability and courage to speak for outraged humanity, and make his mark upon infamy. Yes! we like Juvenal. His glowing power of expression; the occasional condensation of a whole argument into a line; the singular felicity of his allusions and comparisons; the terse proverbial turn of his invective; the practical living application of every word; the steady fixing of his eye on the goal, and the utterness of the annihilation of the criminal-all are admirable. As Mr. Benton says, he makes no moderate war; there is no masterly inactivity about him. From a corner of the horizon, where there is a cloud no bigger than a man's hand, arises a hurricane before which nothing animate or inanimate can stand; before him is reeking corruption in a hundred forms, behind, the free breezes of heaven breathe over ruins indeed, but ruins which time will mantle with loveliness.

One

8. We mention one other characteristic of the Latin language. One other and the last. It is powerful for oratory. It is a tongue in which man can speak strongly to man. reason of this lies in the fact that it is an earnest language. There was no trifling in the Roman character. Like the Germans, they trifled awkwardly. They were the people to suit Carlyle, who places nearly the whole of virtue in being thoroughly in earnest. Their very sport consisted in horrid scenes of bloodshed. The Coliseum is intensely Roman; but it is Rome, not in the days of its glory, but its decay. It was the worst part of its character here terribly concentrated, as it did everything, on a large scale. The Latin is not indeed a language for skirmishing debate, but one in which a great man deeply impressed with some mighty theme, should grandly speak to his fellows. It is a language for the Senate. From one of those ivory chairs should arise the Roman senator, with flowing robe, and in sentences that echo solemnly from the

vaulted roof, speak of the measures by which that mighty power might be consolidated, and yet the liberty of every Roman citizen be inviolate.

That mighty power has fallen. Corruption invaded it limb by limb. "It was dying three hundred years."* It remains to be seen whether another mighty republic, the wonder of modern times, will learn profitable lessons from the ruins of the Seven-hilled City.

Might we, without its seeming irrelevant, append to this discussion an appeal for colleges? How often has the man, amidst the hurried pursuits of an ever-active life, looked back with deep regret, when feeling the need of the discipline and the knowledge a college is reared to furnish, but which in the golden hours of his seclusion there, he neglected to acquire! We are citizens of a nation so vast, that it swells the breast even to hear of the extent and grandeur of its ordinary movements; and its future, no eye can see it; but thick-coming events send far forward into the immense distance, the mingled gleams and shadows of its destiny. In our colleges are-or their students are recreant to their duties and their privilegesher leading minds. Her eagle, mightier perhaps than that of Imperial Rome, may be upheld in fiercest battle, by an arm which was there strengthened for the tempest of that hour. Some slender form which has been seen gliding through their halls, may fill a curule chair in the deliberative assembly, second to none on earth, in that hall which has caught and lingered upon the silver tones of the eloquent orator of the West; which has held listening crowds of talent, sifted from every portion of the land, breathless, while the great principles of the Constitution have glowed in lines of living light at the will of Webster; which has been a theatre of noblest delight, while keenest argument and bright enthusiasm, have thrilled from the soul of Calhoun; and thought, like the wedge which rends the solid oak, from that of Wright; while Taste and Genius have stood hand-in-hand, like breathing statues, intent upon the graceful periods of a Choate or a Berrien; or Sport and Mirth, on jocund tiptoe, have watched the brightening eye of a Corwin or a Crittenden. Or it may be the still

* Dr. L. Beecher.

nobler destiny of some, who have there bent in prayer, and sorrowed in secret, to bear the Cross to regions dark as night; and there, as upon a forlorn hope, far more mournful, and needing far more courage than that of Buena Vista, to stand between the living and the dead, till God's angels shall gather them to His embrace. Yes! the feet that have slowly paced these walks, may be found, like those of Paul in ancient times, and those of our missionary at Athens now, bearing some of these students before Areopagus, for Christ. These forms may be laid under the groves of Persia, and Arabia; or beneath the huge banyan of India. Eyes here partially tried, may be wellnigh extinguished in the painful study of obscure and difficult dialects; or their unsculptured monuments may be rudely placed by the now obscure rivers of our far western clime. God may call some, to speak for him amid his crowded courts, in the proud city; or to gather his sheep into a quiet fold, where few will know, and fewer still will praise them. Some, too, must be professors and teachers in academies, colleges, and theological seminaries. A class of learned men must be raised up to illustrate and defend truth. No Christian Church is doing its duty, unless it contribute to the learning of the land which cherishes it; and experience shows, that learning cannot be sustained without colleges. We trust that we shall not be considered sectarian, if we ask our ministers and people to answer the question, What are we doing for this great interest?

ARTICLE VI.

MAY A MINISTER DEMIT THE MINISTERIAL OFFICE?

Some ten or twelve years since, a presbyter in one of our western synods asked leave of his Presbytery to demit the ministerial office. He had not exercised the functions of the ministry for years, and had devoted himself to secular pursuits; and although maintaining a Christian character without reproach, he had entirely lost both the love and the aptitude for the sacred work which are essential to its prosecution with success. He was

needed as a layman by the Church and congregation, within whose limits he dwelt; but his name was an encumbrance to the roll of the Presbytery, and his negative ministerial character a responsibility from which it would gladly be free. The obligation to the discharge of Presbyterial duties which the relation implied, imposed upon him a useless burden, or the disagreeable sense of responsibilities unfulfilled. The Presbytery granted his request, and without censure his name was stricken from their roll.

To the record of this action exception was taken by the Synod, but the action was not required to be reversed, and the name of the demitting presbyter has not since appeared upon the rolls of the Presbyterian Church.

More recently a like request from a member of the same Presbytery was denied from respect to the judgment of the Synod. It is the wish of the Presbytery to bring the subject before the Church for investigation and discussion.

is?

It will be proper to inquire first, what the law of the Church

In 1726, the Synod,-there being no Assembly as yet,-advised the Rev. Robert Laing, to "demit the whole exercise of the ministry." The record is remarkable: "There being from time to time complaints of the weakness and deficiency of Mr. Robert Laing, rendering his exercise of the ministerial office a detriment to the interest of religion, and rather a scandal than a help to the Gospel; the Synod advised him to demit the whole exercise of the ministry, and not to take it up again but by the approbation of at least three ministers of the Presbytery wherein he may reside; the said Mr. Laing did quietly and humbly acquiesce in the aforesaid advice."

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In the case of Rev. Wm. Woodhull, the Presbytery of New York, on his requesting their advice in his case, allowed him to demit the ministry. The Synod however disapproved their action and directed his name to be re-inserted in their roll.† The next year the Presbytery reported that they had obeyed. But in 1798, the Presbytery report "that they had omitted in their records, agreeably to a direction of the Synod, the name of

* Records, 1726. VOL. v.—7

† Ib. 1783.

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