is endowed. His particular moral and mental experience afterwards modifies them, so that, except as far as faithful inquiry goes, he is not responsible in the premises. We must then look to the heart, the native disposition, the feelings, if we would really know a man. Thus regard. ed, Shelley has few equals. Speculatively he may have been an Atheist; in his inmost soul he was a Christian. This may appear paradoxical, but I believe it is more frequently the case than we are aware. An inquiring, argumentative mind, may often fail in attaining settled convictions; while at the same time the moral nature is so true and active, that the heart, as Wordsworth says, may "do God's work and know it not." Thus I believe it was with Shelley. Veneration was his predominant sentiment. His biographer and intimate friend, Leigh Hunt, says of him, "He was pious towards nature—towards his friends-towards the whole human race-towards the meanest insect of the forest. He did himself an injustice with the public, in using the popular name of the Supreme Being inconsiderately. He identified it solely with the most tyrannical notions of God, made after the worst human fashion; and did not sufficiently reflect that it was often used by a juster devotion to express a sense of the Great Mover of the Universe. An impatience in contradicting worldly and pernicious notions of a supernatural power, led his own aspirations to be unconstrued. As has been justly remarked by a writer eminent for his piety-the greatest want of religious feel. ing is not to be found among the greatest infidels, but among those who only think of religion as a matter of course.' The more important the proposition, the more he thought himself bound to investigate it; the greater the demand upon his assent, the less upon their own principles of reasoning he thought himself bound to grant it." Logical training was the last to which such a nature as Shelley's should have been subjected. Under this discipline at Oxford, he viewed all subjects through the medium of mere reason. Exceedingly fond of argument, in a spirit of adventurous boldness he turned the weap. pous furnished him by his teachers, against the venerable form of Christianity, and wrote Queen Mab. Be it re. membered, however, he never published it. The MSS was thus disposed of without his knowledge, and against his will. Yet at this very time his fellow-student tells us that Shelley studied fifteen hours a-day-lived chiefly upon bread, in order to save enough from his limited in. come to assist poor scholars-stopped in his long walks to give an orange to a gipsey-boy, or purchase milk for a destitute child-talked constantly of plans for the ame. lioration of society-was roused to the warmest indigna. tion by every casual instance of oppression-yielded up his whole soul to the admiration of moral excellenceand worshipped truth in every form with a singleness of heart, and an ardor of feeling, as rare as it was inspiring. He was, according to the same and kindred testimony, wholly unaffected in manner, full of genuine modesty, and possessed by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Although a devoted student, his heart was unchilled by mental application. He at that time delighted in the Platonic doctrine of the preexistence of the soul, and loved to believe that all knowledge now acquired is but reminis cence. Gentle and affectionate to all, benevolent to a fault, and deeply loved by all who knew him, it was his misfortune to have an early experience of ill, to be thrown rudely upon the world-to be misunderstood and slandered, and especially to indulge the wild speculations of an ardent mind without the slightest worldly prudence. Shelley, phrenologically speaking, had no organ of cautiousness. Hence his virtues and graces availed him not in the world, much as they endeared him to those who enjoyed his intimacy. In these remarks I would not be misunderstood. I do not subscribe to Shelley's opinions. I regret that he thought as he did upon many subjects for his own sake as well as for that of society. mass of his poetry is not congenial to my taste. yet these considerations do not blind me to the rare quali. ty of his genius-to the native independence of his mind The great And -to the noble aspirations after the beautiful and the true, which glowed in his soul. I honor Shelley as that rare character a sincere man. I venerate his generous senti I recognise in him qualities which I seldom find among the passive recipients of opinion-the tame followers of routine. I know how much easier it is to conform prudently to social institutions; but, as far as my experience goes, they are full of error, and do great injustice to humanity. I respect the man who in sincerity of purpose discusses their claims, even if I cannot coincide in his views. Nor is this all. I cannot lose sight of the fact, that Shelley's nature is but partially revealed to us. We have as it were a few stray gleams of his wayward orb. Had it fully risen above the horizon instead of being prematurely quenched in the sea, perchance its beams would have clearly reflected at last, the holy effulgence of the Star of Bethlehem. Let us pity, if we will, the errors of Shelley's judgment; but let not prejudice blind us to his merits. "His life," says his wife, "was spent in arduous study, and in acts of kindness and affection. To see him was to love him." Surely there is a redeem. ing worth in the memory of one whose bosom was ever ready to support the weary brow of a brother-whose purposes were high and true-whose heart was enamored of beauty, and devoted to his race: -if this fail, The pillared firmament is rottenness, BURNS. THERE are certain sentiments which "give the world assurance of a man." They are inborn, not acquired. Before them fade away the trophies of scholarship and the badges of authority. They are the most endearing of human attractions. No process of culture, no mere grace of manner, no intellectual endowment, can atone for their absence, or successfully imitate their charms. These sentiments redeem our nature; their indulgence constitutes the better moments of life. Without them we grow mechanical in action, formal in manner, pedantic in mind. With them in freshness and vigor, we are true, spontaneous, morally alive. We reciprocate affection, we luxuriate in the embrace of nature, we breathe an atmosphere of love, and glow in the light of beauty. Frankness, manly independence, deep sensibility and pure enthusiasm are the characteristics of the true man. Against these fashion, trade and the whole train of petty interests wage an unceasing war. In few hearts do they survive; but wherever recognized they carry every unperverted soul |