ence.

was, in truth, the spontaneous sentiment of her soul, and this, guided and chastened by Christian principle, was as effective in its promptings to activity as ever the most selfish personal ambition has proved in the votaries of the world. And such examples are inestimable for our sex. This benignity of disposition she retained to the last, and it diffused the interest of youth around her winter of exist An American gentleman, who visited her in 1824, when she was 79 years old, thus describes her appearance.— "Mrs. More is rather short, but otherwise of an usual size, with a face that never could have been handsome, and never other than agreeable. She has the brightest and most intellectual eye that I ever saw in an aged person; it was as clear, and seemed as fully awake with mind and soul, as if it had but lately opened on a world full of novelty. The whole of her face was strongly characterized by cheerfulness. I had once thought the world was deficient in a knowledge of the means of rendering old age agreeable, and it crossed my mind that I would suggest to Mrs. More that she might, better than any person, supply the deficiency. But it was better than a volume on this subject, to see her. I understand the whole art of making old age peaceful and happy at a glance. It is only to exert our talents in the cause of virtue as she has done, and in age be like her. It was a strong lecture, and I would never forget it."

She died September 1833, in the eighty-ninth year of her age.

"How shall we mourn thee?-With a lofty trust,

Our life's immortal birthright from above! With a glad faith, whose eye, to track the just,

Through shades and mysteries lifts a glance of love,

And yet can weep!—for nature thus deplores

The friend that leaves us, though for happier shores."

CONVERSATION.

HAIL, Conversation, heavenly fair, Thou bliss of life, and balm of care! Still may thy gentle reign extend, And Taste with Wit and Science blend. Soft polisher of rugged man!

Refiner of the social plan!

For thee, blest solace of his toil!

The sage consumes the midnight oil,
And keeps late vigils, to produce
Materials for thy future use;

Calls forth the else neglected knowledge
Of school, of travel, and of college.

Let Education's moral mint
The noblest images imprint;

Let Taste her curious touchstone hold,
To try if standard be the gold;
But 'tis thy commerce, Conversation,
Must give it use by circulation;
That noblest commerce of mankind,
Whose precious merchandise is MIND.

*

O'er books the mind inactive lies, Books, the mind's food, not exercise! Her vigorous wings she scarcely feels, 'Till use the latent strength reveals; Her slumbering energies called forth, She rises, conscious of her worth; And at her new-found powers elated, Thinks them not roused, but new created.

Enlightened spirits! you who know
What charms from polished converse flow,
Speak, for you can, the pure delight
When kindling sympathies unite;
When correspondent tastes impart
Communion sweet from heart to heart;
You ne'er the cold gradations need
Which vulgar souls to union lead;
No dry discussion to unfold

The meaning, caught ere well 'tis told;
In taste, in learning, wit, or science,
Still kindled souls demand alliance;
Each in the other joys to find
The image answering to his mind.

But sparks electric only strike
On souls electrical alike;
The flash of intellect expires,
Unless it meet congenial fires;
What lively pleasure to divine,
The thought implied, the hinted line,

To feel Allusions' artful force,

And trace the image to its source!

Quick Memory blends her scattered rays,
Till Fancy kindles at the blaze;

The works of ages start to view,

And ancient Wit elicits new.

But let the lettered and the fair,
And, chiefly, let the wit beware;
You, whose warm spirits never fail,
Forgive the hint which ends my tale.
O shun the peril which attends

On wit, on warmth, and heed your friends-
Though Science nursed you in her bowers,
Tho' Fancy crown your brow with flowers,

Each thought, tho' bright Invention fill,
Tho' Attic bees each word distil,

Yet if one gracious power refuse
Her gentle influence to infuse,—
If she withhold her magic spell,
Nor in the social circle dwell,

In vain shall listening crowds approve;
They'll praise you, but they will not love.

What is this power, you're loth to mention,
This charm, this witchcraft? 'Tis ATTENTION!
Mute angel, yes; thy looks dispense
The silence of intelligence:

Thy graceful form I well discern,
In act to listen and to learn;

'Tis thou for talents shall obtain

That pardon Wit would hope in vain;
Thy wondrous power, thy secret charm,
Shall Envy of her sting disarm;
Thy silent flattery soothes our spirit,
And we forgive eclipsing merit;
Our jealous souls no longer burn,
Nor hate thee, tho' thou shine in turn;
The sweet atonement screens the fault,
And love and praise are cheaply bought.

With mild complacency to hear,
Tho' somewhat long the tale appear –
The dull relation to attend,

Which mars the story you could mend;
'Tis more than wit-'tis moral beauty,
'Tis pleasure rising out of duty.
Nor vainly think, the time you waste,
When temper triumphs over taste.

8

SWEET Sensibility! thou keen delight! Unprompted moral! sudden sense of right! Perception exquisite ! fair Virtue's seed! Thou quick precursor of the liberal deed! Thou hasty conscience! reason's blushing morn! Instinctive kindness ere reflection's born! Prompt sense of equity! to thee belongs The swift redress of unexamined wrongs! Eager to serve, the cause perhaps untried, But always apt to choose the suff'ring side! To those who know thee not, no words can paint, And those who know thee, know all words are faint!

She does not feel thy power who boasts thy flame, And rounds her every period with thy name; Nor she who vents her disproportioned sighs With pining Lesbia when her sparrow dies: Nor she who melts when hapless Shore expires, While real misery unrelieved retires! Who thinks feigned sorrows all her tears deserve, And weeps o'er Werter while her children starve. As words are but th' external marks to tell The fair ideas in the mind that dwell, And only are of things the outward sign, And not the things themselves they but define; So exclamations, tender tones, fond tears, And all the graceful drapery Feeling wears, These are her garb, not her, they but express Her form, her semblance, her appropriate dress;