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The great object of the book is apparent from what has been said. It is to transmute into familiar feeling the doctrine of immortality, and to develope such corroborations of this grand truth as are seen to be latent in nature, history, science, and art. It gives us the spiritual aspect in which all things appear to a devout mind that has been touched and purified by sorrow.

In reading these conversations, we have been reminded at times of King Alfred's version of Boethius, where that philosopher, in the reign of Theodoric, is represented as being in prison, and when much disturbed in mind and very sorrowful, heavenly Wisdom comes to him, and they converse together, day by day, upon many of the mysteries of existence. At times, also, the quiet and quaint beauty of the delightful Izaak Walton has been brought to mind. "So when I would beget content," would that rare old angler say, "and increase confidence in the power and wisdom and providence of Almighty God, I will walk in the meadows by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care, and those very many other various little living creatures, that are not only created, but fed, man knows not how, by the goodness of the God of nature, and therefore trust in him. This," he adds, "is my purpose, and so 'Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord,' and let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be with mine." Then, says his companion, -"And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and dare trust in his providence, and be quiet, and go a-angling." The cheerfulness, the quietness, the love of the beautiful, the homely truthfulness combined with ideality, which we love in Walton, are in a measure to be found here. The volume takes us under the soft shadows and the mild sunlight which fall on the world, and through the green pastures and valleys, and by the river of life.

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The author evidently loves the writings of such men as Dr. Henry More and Ralph Cudworth and Sir Thomas Browne. We can understand with what a keen relish he must also listen to that sweet singer of the Temple, George Herbert. can see how he would enjoy the subtile reasonings of Plato, or hang enchanted over the melting music of the old Greek bards, or lose himself for a time in the mysticism of Swedenborg. But if he can enjoy communion with such minds and has caught something of their spirit, yet he evidently writes from his own nature, and, while he has peculiarities of

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Peabody's Sermons.

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style, there seems nothing strained or affected. In fact, the naturalness of the book constitutes one of its prominent characteristics. It is marked by clear and sound thought, and breathes throughout "the still, sad music of humanity." We cannot but believe, therefore, that this volume will be generally read with pleasure and profit. It will prove to many, amidst the infirmities of age, and in hours of illness, the means of rich consolation; while to others it will be a source of suggestive thought and spiritual impulse; and we are confident that few will read it without being lifted into truer views and higher sympathies.

R. C. W.

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THE feelings with which one welcomes a volume like this are unusually mingled. The affection and admiration which the author inspired, his excellence as a student and expounder both of the word and works of God, his quiet but signal fidelity as a Christian pastor, his peculiar powers of pleasing and blessing in social intercourse, cause in us a poignant grief at his seemingly premature removal. And yet not only are these very thoughts our comforters, but we feel also that a great blessing has been bestowed in the power of a death so beautifully consistent with the life, and a death that could hardly have spoken so impressively at any other period of life.

Then there are emotions, not confined to a few perhaps, but peculiarly deep and tender in those most intimate with the friend thus removed. With the exception of Henry Ware, whose sphere was larger from difference of station, but whom in many qualities he resembled, we doubt if any other has so unconsciously, yet so powerfully, touched the deepest springs of sympathy and love. Speaking, as we do, both from observation and experience, we may be allowed the indulgence of personal recollections. Having enjoyed the privilege of beginning the ministry as his nearest neighbour in the same household of faith, we found in Mr. Peabody even then, though but recently settled himself, a friend who seemed to unite the rela

Sermons by the late WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY, D. D.; with a Memoir, by his BROTHER. Boston: Benjamin H. Greene. 1849. 12mo. pp. cxli., 258.

tions of brother and father. Without ever assuming the office of adviser, or appearing to know that he had the power of giving information or exerting influence, he was constantly dropping precious words, beautiful truths, useful hints, conveyed in original, varied, delightful illustration. Such humorous yet truthful delineation of character, such kind yet searching and severe discrimination, so perfect a catholicism with so individual a judgment and fearless a courage, we have seldom found. None could sit at his fireside, especially in the first months of a most favored domestic union, and witness the mutual confidence and feel the combined influence of those two characters, beautifully blending in a ministry of truth and peace, without a deep impression of the blessedness of meek and cheerful views of providence and life. How large a place she filled in that Christian home, how tender the love and strong the arm with which she sustained him in weakness and struggle, we must not attempt to show. Hard is it to suppress the tribute which rises to our lips, as the lovely image of that true and noble woman comes back to us after years of separation. Few names of the many devoted wives of ministers and missionaries, at home and abroad, deserve to be more cherished, or will be more cherished, in grateful remembrance. Not one, we are sure, would have been more pained in life, perhaps we should feel would be more grieved even now, to be made the subject of eulogy. We forbear. But we will ever thank God for the influence of that life and death.

In the volume just published, we have the promise fulfilled —so far, at least, as God permitted-of a Memoir of Dr. Peabody by his brother, and a selection from his Sermons by another friend. That God did not permit the Memoir to be finished by the hand that began it, but struck that hand also with death in the midst of its work, gives new interest to this impressive family history. The leading facts are known, having been presented in this journal,* and in other forms, soon after Dr. Peabody's death. His biographer has not attempted to give many new facts, but to arrange all in their natural order, interspersing and illustrating them with extracts from his brother's correspondence. He has also thrown in those two "Addresses,". which many of us had seen in manuscript, but which have not before been published, — deliv

* Christian Examiner for September, 1847.

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Love of Nature.

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ered just after the deaths of the wife and daughter, and marked by a simple pathos and devout eloquence, such as we have never seen surpassed. In connection with the sad occasion of those addresses, portions of letters are given, full of interest. Indeed, the whole Memoir, written simply and frankly by one who was "kindred" in more than the usual signification of the term, will take its place among the good biographies of the best men. It sets him before us just as he was; and we again look upon him, and again listen to him, with the impression, which he always gave us, of a true man and an ever advancing Christian.

It is known that he was fitted for college in Exeter, his native town, and after graduation at Cambridge at the early age of seventeen, returned to Exeter, and spent a year there as assistant to Dr. Abbot, in that academy where so many of the finest minds in New England have been trained. Going to Cambridge again to prepare for the profession of his choice,the profession for which he seems to have been ordained of God, he began to preach in 1820, and was at once called to Springfield, where he passed the rest of his life. His loneliness there for several years, his inexperience and self-distrust, the difficulties he encountered, the loss of health and impaired sight, from which he never entirely recovered, will be seen in this Memoir to have created a more serious and peculiar probation than may have been supposed. It was no ordinary trial, as some well knew. Few have been called to a greater effort. It was made, and it prevailed. A work was accomplished in his own soul, in his congregation, in the town and the community, such as would have been honorable to any one, in the best health, with favoring circumstances and long life. That he accomplished it in the absence of all these, and by the simple power of faith and character, is the grand lesson.

A few passages from the Memoir we wish to give, and we take those which are likely to be least familiar. Though his love of nature is well known, and his knowledge of natural history, his use of that knowledge in his profession, as seen in the following extract, may be new to many.

"For several years he occupied a detached building as a study, situated in his garden. In this retired spot, he had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the varieties of birds, and of studying their habits. This persecuted race have abundant sagacity to distinguish the idle destroyers, from whom it is well that

they can fly, from those who are disposed to be their friends. With these they are glad to be familiar, as if to show that they deserve more attention and better treatment than they have ever yet been able to secure. Mr. Peabody's researches on this subject were curious and minute; more so than is usually to be expected from one whose mind is earnestly employed upon more important things. But he endeavoured to bring all his occupations into harmony with the great object to which his life was devoted, and he believed that this pursuit would not be without its value, if it should enable him to cultivate a taste for it in the children of his charge, before they learn from the example of their elders to become acquainted with birds only for the purpose of tormenting or destroying them. There is extant among his papers a series of lectures, delivered before the Sabbath school of his society, in which the subject of plants and birds is treated in a manner that could not fail to engage the attention of the young. These were illustrated by drawings, made and colored by his own hand, with an accuracy and beauty which would have done no discredit to the skill of an accomplished artist. Indeed, in youth he exhibited a decided taste for drawing, and, though he subsequently ceased to cultivate it, practised the art occasionally for the benefit of his friends, or for some purpose of his own. There is reason to believe that the instructions to which I have alluded were not without a lasting and beneficent effect upon the minds of those who received them."—pp. xxix., xxx.

From the letters here introduced, we must draw an illustration of that quiet and racy humor for which he was so remarkable, and which often covered earnest and severe truth, -as in the following passage.

"Dec. 17, 1834. -I suppose E. keeps you advised of all that goes on here, or rather does not go on; for a general palsy seems to have affected the social system. We should be glad even to have phrenology back again; for we are fast hastening to that ideal state in which the individual shall be every thing, and associations of every description be done away. We looked to the lyceum for relief, but Dr. began an extemporaneous anatomical lecture last Wednesday, to be continued, how long was not stated; but I fear he will hold on till the house is as thin as one of his skeletons. I confess, however, that I admired the man's courage; for I never dared to follow the ancient clerical practice so far as to announce the after part of the sermon for the after part of the day, having fears lest the after part of the audience, meantime, should disperse past recall."

"Oct., 1840.—I am rather curious to see how far the antiSabbath-and-clergy mania will extend. I see that my old ac

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