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T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS,
806 CHESTNUT STREET.

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the ysar 1857, by

T. B. PETERSON,

An the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

882 Paige

SHORT PATENT SERMONS

ON BEAUTY.

TEXT-Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure
The sence of man, and all his mind possesse,
As beauties lovely baite, that doth procure
Great warriours oft their vigors to represse,
And mighty hands forget their manlinesse;
Drawn with the powre of an heart-robbing eye,
And wrapt in fetters of a golden tresse,
That can with melting pleasuance molifye,

Their hardened hearts enured to blood and cruelty.

MY HEARERS-I suppose that all of you have often felt the de potic power of Beauty, and have had your obdurate, adamantine, calcined hearts softened down by its omnipotency to the yielding substance of a pan-cake. That which appertains to the flesh, is most arbitrary and soul-fretting in its influence; but that which belongs to Nature alone-such as fills the whole universe with its allurements is calculated rather to inspire, and raise the thoughts up to that concentrated essence of Beauty which sparkles with loveliness from the beginning to the end of the end. I shall dweil first upon the beauties of Nature; but, as saith the auctioneer, I can't dwell long, for my discourse must be condensed into one column of the Sunday Mercury, beyond which limit I am seldom allowed to trespass.

My dear friends-it matters not upon whichsoever side we turn our eyes, we behold such beauty in its primitive nakedness as cannot fail to captivate the heart of every true worshipper of the God of Nature, and make him feel as though ten thousand pismires were crawling up and down the ossified railway of his back. Look at yonder myriads of stars that glitter and sparkle from the dome of heaven's high concave! Say, is there not beauty in these? Aye, there is beauty, magnificent in these little celestial trinkets that stud the ebon brow of Night-shining, as they do, like a multitude of beacon lights of glory in the blue black of eternity, or like so many cats' eyes in a windowless garret. Observe the ivery moon, pale-faced Cynthia, wandering Luna, or whatever ou choose to call her-see how gracefully she promenades the

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