UC-NRLF 
 
 155 5t.fi 
 
 
 
 
 
H. SCOFIELD, 
 
THE 
 
 LITERARY REMAINS 
 
 JOSEPH APPLETON BARRETT 
 
 EMILY MARIA BARRETT. 
 
 BOSTON I 
 M UN ROE AND FRANCIS. 
 
 1837. 
 
US. 
 
752. 
 PREFACE. />. JL 
 
 THE following Literary Remains are from the pens of 
 a young gentleman and lady, endowed with singular 
 talents, modesty, and moral worth. An early death has 
 closed the door forever to that career of honor and of 
 usefulness, for which, by reason of these endowments, 
 they seem to have been destined. These compositions, 
 over which, and the souls whose offspring they are, the 
 Fell Destroyer can exert no power, have by the hand of 
 affection been gathered into the present volume. Now 
 that their bodies have vanished from among us, and their 
 spirits returned to their heavenly homes ; now that their 
 voices no longer fall upon our ears, and their good ex 
 ample shines no more around our paths, this collection of 
 their literary efforts we have deemed a worthy tribute to 
 their memory, as most surely does it afford a pleasing con 
 solation to our own hearts. Intellectual flowers they are, 
 cultivated in the early spring time of their authors ex 
 istence. They have not around and in them the appear 
 ance of maturity. They do not challenge public scru 
 tiny. They have sprung up from youthful hearts. 
 They have the simplicity, and freshness, and purity of 
 youth, and over them has death shed an interest, tender 
 and melancholy. Flowers we have called them, but we 
 trust, that not like earthly flowers, will they fade and 
 decay, but long abide green and flourishing in many 
 memories. 
 
 We cannot engage in the chill and critical vocation of 
 pointing out merits and defects, but we may perhaps be 
 
 483 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 pardoned in briefly alluding to the religious spirit which, 
 as it were, embalms and consecrates these composi 
 tions. Like a holy light, it seems to surround and per 
 vade them all. It imparts to them their greatest 
 charm. Piety was thoroughly intermingled with their 
 authors every thought, and feeling, and emotion. It 
 had been breathed into their bosoms almost with their 
 breath of life. It not only served to guide them aright 
 in their brief intercourse with their fellow beings, but 
 likewise bathed, and with its influence hallowed, their 
 intellectual offspring. We more intensely feel how great 
 a loss we have suffered in their death, when we reflect 
 that not only have their gifted intellects passed beyond 
 the silent shores, but likewise have passed away hearts 
 filled with religious motives and inspired w r ith religious 
 energy to direct and invigorate those intellects in their 
 earthly course. When such beings disappear from the 
 midst of us, we do not more mourn the vacancy made in 
 our circle of companions and of friends, than lament the 
 loss sustained by society and the world. 
 
 As has already been suggested, this volume is not de 
 signed to be tried in the ordeal of public literary criti 
 cism. It is intended for the eye of those who had the 
 happiness of its authors personal acquaintance, and of 
 those to whom the reputation of their talents and their 
 worth had been extended. Unto such we trust it may 
 prove a not unworthy memorial, and be affectionately 
 cherished as a faint, intellectual Teature of those whose 
 natural faces can now be seen no more ; and may the 
 spirit which lives and breathes in its pages a spirit 
 heavenly and pure live ever strong and youthful in our 
 hearts, and be breathed forth daily in our lives. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 COMPOSITIONS, &c. OF J. A. BARRETT. 
 
 Page 
 
 Is there a God ? 9 
 
 Lines, written during the year 1827, at the age of fifteen . 10 
 
 Lines, addressed to a friend, in 1830 12 
 
 Lines, addressed to other friends 13, 14, 15 
 
 Lines, written in his Sister s Album 16 
 
 A strong attachment to literature 19 
 
 Advantages of adversity 22 
 
 A walk 27 
 
 The love of novelty 31 
 
 Monuments 37 
 
 Lines, written at New-Haven, for his sister 38 
 
 The mind 40 
 
 Man 43 
 
 Health and sickness 44 
 
 Lines, found in the author s pocket-book after his death . . 45 
 
 Letters to his parents and sisters 47 
 
 Obituary notice, written by a Classmate 55 
 
 A sermon 59 
 
 Lines sung after the delivery of the sermon 79 
 
VI 
 
 COMPOSITIONS OF EMILY M. BARRETT. 
 
 Page 
 Amusements 83 
 
 Enthusiasm g 5 
 
 Priscilla N g 7 
 
 Human vicissitudes gg 
 
 Washington and Columbus 91 
 
 Conversation between a gentleman and his son .... 94 
 
 Thoughts, suggested by leaving school 98 
 
 The Bible 99 
 
 Brief sketch 104 
 
 Lines written on her death 109 
 
 Inscriptions 112 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Letters sent to the Parents of the deceased , 113 
 
COMPOSITIONS, &c. 
 
 JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
COMPOSITIONS, 
 
 4* 
 
 IS there a God ? All nature cries there is 
 The Sun exclaims What but a God gave me 
 Existence, set my bounds in the wide fields 
 Of ether, and supplies my glowing flames 
 With ever-needed aliment ? The stars, 
 Those shining orbs that move in distant realms 
 Of space, and gild the clear nocturnal sky, 
 Exclaim, What but a God caused us to be 
 Suspended us on nothing, and preserves 
 That order and that harmony, which mark 
 Our revolutions ? But resplendent suns 
 And circling worlds do not alone proclaim 
 A God s existence. We ourselves, though mute, 
 Declare the truth. What but a God could form 
 The human frame that thousand-stringed harp 
 And every string preserve in tune ? A grain 
 Of sand a spire of grass may also teach 
 2 
 
10 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 The solemn, pleasing truth and should convince. 
 In full, the unbelieving Atheist. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Written during the year 1827, at the age of fifteen. 
 
 THIS life s a state of care and pain, 
 Its pleasures all, how few, how vain ! 
 No solid good can man possess, 
 No lasting peace can mortals bless. 
 
 Afflictions sore, disease and wo, 
 Attend us all where er we go, 
 No place is found, or far or near. 
 Secure from sorrow and from fear. 
 
 From infancy s first helpless hour, 
 Till we arrive at manhood s power. 
 Within ourselves we ever find 
 A restless, agitated mind. 
 
 Not all the honors of the state, 
 Not all the glories of the great, 
 Can unremitting joys impart. 
 Or e en bestow a tranquil heart. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 11 
 
 From glittering wealth and gaudy show, 
 Not ease nor happiness can flow, 
 Dangers and trials each surround, 
 The beggar low and monarch crown d. 
 
 Though bound in friendship s strongest ties, 
 
 Where earthly joys most pure arise, 
 
 Still we pursue a thorny way, 
 
 Still treach rous paths themselves display. 
 
 The dearest friends we can obtain, 
 To cheer us through this world of pain, 
 Death, conquering king, oft summons hentv 
 To leave the things of time and sense. 
 
 Since naught enduring is below, 
 And death and pain walk to and fro, 
 Enjoyment true must not be sought, 
 From transient scenes with bubbles fraught 
 
 Then let us place our hopes above, 
 Built on a Saviour s dying love, 
 That when this mortal life shall end, 
 Jesus shall be our gracious friend. 
 
 Fly, time, O fly on swifter wing, 
 That joyful hour O quickly bring, 
 When we ourselves shall soar away, 
 To regions of eternal day. 
 
12 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Addressed to a friend in 1830. 
 
 WHILE traveling through this " vale of tears," 
 This world of cares, and doubts, and fears, 
 To us his kindly aid to lend, 
 How much we need the faithful Friend. 
 
 A Friend, a Friend, true and sincere ! 
 A sound how sweet, a name how dear ! 
 Of greater worth than sapphire gems, 
 And princely, splendid diadems. 
 
 But friendship, though a grateful balm 
 Life s ills to soothe, its sorrows calm, 
 Though such support therefrom we gain, 
 At times is e en the source of pain. 
 
 With Friends the dearest to our heart, 
 Alas ! we often have to part ; 
 To those most loved, most kind and true, 
 We often have to bid " Adieu." 
 
 Now should it be our lot, my Friend, 
 Neath different skies our days to spend, 
 Where twill no more to us be given, 
 To see each other under Heaven, 
 
13 
 
 JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
 Be sure, though this should be our lot, 
 By me you ne er will be forgot ; + 
 My thoughts will love, yes, ever well, 
 On our acquaintance past to dwell. 
 
 May you, where er you roam or rest, 
 Be with the richest favors blest, 
 Heaven, all-indulgent, does bestow 
 On frail and feeble men blow. 
 
 And when the scenes of life are o er, 
 May you attain fair " Canaan s shore," 
 With God, a never failing Friend, 
 An immortality to spend. 
 
 Tlie following were written for other friends about the 
 same time. 
 
 As down the stream of time we sail, 
 The current swift, and strong the gale, 
 Our little barks all sprung a leak. 
 And we so tempest-worn and weak, 
 Will One Almighty condescend, 
 To be our pilot and our friend ? 
 If so that guide, that friend divine, 
 My fellow passenger, be thine. 
 
 As fearful clouds involve our sky, 
 And angry storms seem gath ring nigh, 
 2* 
 
14 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Is there a star whose radiant glow, 
 May yet illume our course below ? 
 Whose beam can pierce the shades of night, 
 And yield a pure and heavenly light ? 
 If so that star illume thy way, 
 To the bright realms of endless day. 
 
 WHILE in our youth how apt are we 
 To think our future life will be 
 
 A peaceful happy state ; 
 To think no scenes of sore distress, 
 Of anguish, wo, and wretchedness, 
 
 Our coming years await. 
 We often dream it will be ours, 
 Through life to walk in pleasure s bowers. 
 Adorned with pleasure s sweetest flowers. 
 
 But, Caroline, the dream how vain ! 
 We carft below live free from pain, 
 
 From sorrow, care and toil : 
 Happiness is a plant indeed, 
 Springing from too celestial seed, 
 
 To thrive on earthly soil. 
 Yet I would say, what man can know 
 Of joy and peace, while here below, 
 May gracious Heaven on thee bestow. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
 WHILE the freshness of youth pervades the frame, 
 
 And the tide of feeling is high, 
 Then we fancy that things deserve the name, 
 
 Which they go most commonly by. 
 
 E er we feel disappointment s ruthless hand. 
 
 So depressing, so damping, so cold, 
 What resembles the rock this cartt be sand 
 
 And what shines, is certainly gold, 
 
 But as time in its course adds years to years, 
 We perceive at length our mistake ; 
 
 And we grieve that so poor and false appears- 
 What could once such promises make. 
 
 But let short be our grief for man s design d 
 
 For a world far better than this ; 
 Where he may, through rich grace, in glory find 
 
 An abode of permanent bliss. 
 
16 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 The. following lines were written in a Sister s Album, in 
 the Autumn of 1931, previous to leaving home for 
 College. 
 
 NARCISSA, as these leaves you turn, 
 A brother s name you ll here discern ; 
 So stop a moment, and review 
 The lines which Joseph penn d for you. 
 
 LIFE S busy stage, whose curtain you have raised, 
 Is throng d by men of every hue, and shade 
 Of character : as well by those whose heart 
 Is all corrupt, who never yet have done 
 A manly deed, nor thought a manly thought, 
 Whose follies, and whose crimes, make them the bane 
 Of all society, and render them 
 The world s disgrace, as those whose conduct says, 
 Their rule of action is the " golden rule," 
 Who " noble ends by noble means pursue," 
 " Who find their bliss in seeing others blest," 
 And whom their real virtues elevate 
 Almost above the reach of calumny s, 
 Or envy s shafts. On such a varied stage, 
 You, you, Narcissa, have a part to act : 
 And would you act it well ? You little think 
 What difficulties will attend its fit 
 And right performance ; what allurements, vicf 
 And folly will spread thick on every side 
 
JOSEPH A, BARRETT, 17 
 
 Around you, to attract your eye, and win 
 
 Your heart, and draw you into paths that fools 
 
 Delight to tread. For, though you here and there 
 
 May see fair virtue on its snow-white throne, 
 
 In its own dignity and loveliness ; 
 
 Vice all around will sit, its turpitude 
 
 Concealed beneath ten thousand, thousand forms 
 
 Of seeming beauty, to allure, to tempt, 
 
 And to destroy. But do not yet despair, 
 
 Here read a brother s counsel and obey. 
 
 Banish, O ! banish from your heart, the low 
 And sordid principles of self, and let 
 The virtue of benevolence reign there : 
 A virtue lovely wheresoe er it dwells, 
 But loveliest dwelling in the female breast. 
 Let generous motives prompt to generous acts. 
 Nor think, Narcissa, always to escape 
 The darts of malice, and the taunts of blame. 
 Man may mistake the worthiest design, 
 And readily condemn the noblest deed. 
 Yea more man, strange to tell, man may despise 
 The heart that loves him best, and execrate 
 The hand that gives him most. But O ! beware, 
 Beware of flattery s smile, and flattery s praise. 
 Its smile may poison and its praise may kill. 
 Suspect its fascinating look and scorn 
 Its slippery tongue and flee its sweet-toned voice, 
 As the vile serpent s bite, or scorpion s sting. 
 
18 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 When care oppresses, and when doubts perplex, 
 When troubles harass, and when /ears disturb, 
 Resort to Wisdom for its kind advice, 
 And learn from sage Experience. Nor scorn, 
 O ! never scorn the counsel of the poor. 
 The meanest box may hide the richest gem. 
 
 And, Mary, when your duty you have learn d, 
 Though mountains must be climbed though oceans 
 
 crossed 
 
 Though slander rail though calumny reproach 
 Though friends forsake though every ill betide 
 Heedless of all, that duty promptly do. 
 Of you, Narcissa, let it ne er be said, 
 " She knew her duty but she did it not." 
 
 Although, when duty calls, your heart and hand 
 Should act in unison with energy 
 And with decision, modesty should still 
 Possess your breast, and grace your every deed. 
 Departed is her innocence, whose heart 
 Knows not the quicken d throb, and gone, ah ! gone. 
 Her beauty and her loveliness, whose cheek 
 Knows not the crimson tint. 
 
 But now to close. 
 
 Let every virtue, social and divine, 
 Be yours ; yours to ennoble and adorn 
 Yours to support and cheer yours to direct 
 And guide and yours that glory to insure, 
 No mortal eye hath seen, or heart conceived. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 19 
 
 A STRONG ATTACHMENT TO LITERATURE. 
 Written while a member of college in 1832. 
 
 THE term knowledge is one of general import. Lit 
 erature is a species of knowledge. Science is another 
 species. Erudition differs from both literature and sci 
 ence, but yet constitutes another species of knowl 
 edge. Thus we might go on and specify various other 
 modifications and forms of the same. But this is un 
 necessary. Definitely, then, what is literature ? In 
 other words, what is that peculiar modification of 
 knowledge, denoted by this term? We answer, general 
 information obtained through the medium of writings. 
 All knowledge obtained through this medium is not 
 literature. Science is a species of knowledge character 
 ized by order and system, and frequently distinguished 
 for the clearness and certainty of its principles, For 
 example, such is the case with Geometry : and hence 
 Geometry is termed a science. But a knowledge of 
 Geometry may be acquired through the medium of 
 writings : and the same is true in respect to the other 
 sciences. Therefore all knowledge derived through 
 this medium is not literature. 
 
 General information, obtained through this medi 
 um, constitutes, we have said, that modification of 
 knowledge, now under discussion. By general infor- 
 
20 
 
 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 mation, thus derived, we here mean, not a species of 
 knowledge, acquired through the medium of writings, 
 profound and unintelligible in its nature, and capable 
 of being apprehended by only a gifted few ; but an 
 acquaintance, thus obtained, with men with things 
 with the world, in the general : an acquaintance of 
 a common, or general relation ; an acquaintance with 
 subjects of a prevalent or general interest, and such as 
 are open to the examination of all. In the sense now 
 explained, writings, such as the following poetical, 
 historical, critical, elegant, &c. may be denominated 
 works of literature. Where writings of this nature are 
 not found, literature cannot properly be said to exist. 
 
 The savages of America are destitute of such writ 
 ings, and of course possess no literature : for they want 
 the very means of its acquisition. 
 
 We next remark that a strong attachment to this spe 
 cies of knowledge is, in a high degree, advantageous 
 and important. After showing the truth of this propo 
 sition, we shall extend our observations no farther. 
 
 That knowledge is desirable, few will deny. Can it 
 be that in the human bosom the benevolent author of 
 nature has implanted a desire so ardent, so incessant, as 
 man s love of knowledge, merely to incite him to the 
 acquisition of what is calculated to yield no enjoyment 
 and confer no benefit ? 
 
 That that modification of knowledge denominated 
 literature is a desirable good, we need not affirm. If 
 then literature is itself valuable, it follows that an at 
 tachment to its pursuits is advantageous and important 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 21 
 
 For universally, whatever good is the object of attach 
 ment and devotion, the stronger that attachment, and 
 the warmer that devotion, the more of the good in 
 question will be secured. Hence the interest felt is ad 
 vantageous in proportion to its intensity : and the 
 greater the advantage of the interest, the greater its 
 importance. If literature, therefore, be of but little 
 value, a strong attachment to it is advantageous and 
 important, inasmuch as such attachment is essential to 
 the securing of the small benefit, which, in that case, 
 may be acquired. 
 
 But that literature is more than a mere ordinary 
 good, every reflecting mind must admit. Compare the 
 man of literature and refinement with the wild and un 
 tutored savage : and tell me, has the former no more 
 correct ideas of the relations and the object of life, no 
 greater elevation and purity of feeling, no richer, and 
 higher, and nobler sources of enjoyment, than the lat 
 ter ? Compare, too, the community that may be de 
 nominated literary, with one that has no claim to such 
 a title: and tell me, in which are the blessings of civ 
 ilization and religion the more widely diffused, and 
 generally enjoyed? In which are the principles of so 
 cial compact the more correctly understood, and the ad 
 vantages of a well organized society the more fully se 
 cured ? In which are there the less narrowness of 
 mind, and degradation of character ? 
 
 We infer, then, that literature is a great individual 
 and national good. We have already shown an at- 
 3 
 
22 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 tachment to it, considered as an ordinary good, to be 
 beneficial and important. But admitting it, as we 
 must, to be a good peculiarly great, we conclude, on 
 the same principles of reasoning, that a strong attach 
 ment to it. is, in a high degree, advantageous and im 
 portant. 
 
 We pursue the subject no farther. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 ADVERSITY is a term the import of which none can 
 mistake. For where is the man whose own experience 
 has not taught him its signification ? Where the man 
 upon whose path the sun of prosperity has ever shone 
 unclouded and serene? Where the man whom the 
 thought of hopes deceived and prospects darkened has 
 never forced to drop tbe tear of sorrow over the insta 
 bility of worldly good ? 
 
 In a world like ours, life and suffering are insepara 
 ble. The former necessarily implies at least the occa 
 sional experience of the latter. Not a beast that roams 
 the fields, not a bird that skims the air, not one of the 
 myriads of the brute creation, is always exempt from 
 pain. But of all the tenants of the earth, man is the 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 23 
 
 most susceptible of suffering. And as his is the high 
 est capacity for it, so also is his the greatest liability to 
 it. This liability results necessarily from his very na 
 ture and circumstances. Possessing a mind of bound 
 less aspirations, yet living in a world where the objects 
 of them, either cannot be reached, or, if attained, are 
 incapable of yielding the satisfaction they promised ; 
 sustaining a variety of social relations, yet existing in a 
 state in which the tenderest ties of love and friendship 
 must needs be often severed ; a being so restricted in 
 his powers as to be insufficient to parry a thousand ills 
 which any means above his own infirmities seem ade 
 quate to remove ; and so limited in his knowledge, as 
 to be unable to anticipate a thousand others, which, if 
 foreseen, even he might escape ; and, finally, infected 
 as he is with the poison of moral pollution, the grand 
 source of all misery, man must expect to eat the bread 
 of disappointment, and drink from the cup of adver 
 sity. 
 
 Suffering, then, is the necessary lot of beings like 
 ourselves. And here the question very naturally arises, 
 is human suffering the endurance of positive pain, con 
 nected with no redeeming advantages ? 
 
 I answer, some men there are who derive but too 
 evidently no benefit whatever from the experience of 
 the ills "that flesh is heir too," who gain nothing 
 which makes the least amends for their severity. We 
 may go still farther, and say, that these same men who 
 
24 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 thus receive from adversity no redeeming good are 
 more than mere sufferers for the time being, and in a 
 necessary degree. Under the pressure of unavoidable 
 evils, they conclude, in despair, that the world is but 
 the abode of misery, and that life is made up of wretch 
 edness. Possessing these extravagant ideas, they yield 
 themselves to a stupid indifference about the allotments 
 of fortune, abandon their interest in the concerns of 
 the world around them, remit all efforts for their own 
 or others benefit, and become purely misanthropic in 
 their feelings and temperament. Show me the men 
 who are indifferent to the fate which befals them, and 
 ungrateful for benefits received, and callous to others 
 woes, and unmoved by others joys, and destitute of all 
 refinement of feeling and nobleness of soul, and I will 
 point you to those whom adversity has failed to profit. 
 
 In most cases, however, adversity is not without its 
 advantages. Its legitimate influence is most salutary. 
 Said a philosopher of Rome, who weighed well the 
 sentiments he uttered, " bona rerum secundarum op- 
 tabilia, adversarum mirabilia." 
 
 Adversity naturally tends to render its subject patient 
 and acquiescent under the inevitable trials of life. 
 This patient submission to unavoidable suffering is a 
 thing widely different from that stoical insensibility just 
 now alluded to. The one is meek and innocent, the 
 other is obstinate and culpable. The one is a trait 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
 25 
 
 which ennobles and adorns, the other a trait which de 
 grades and disgraces. 
 
 Now this acquiescence, so honorable, so important, 
 it is the grand tendency of suffering to produce. The 
 man, then, who resists not this tendency, who closes 
 not the avenues of his heart against the salutary ad 
 monitions of adversity, is strengthening himself with a 
 principle, which once acquired, not the wealth of the 
 Indies would tempt him to abandon. 
 
 Adversity too is suited to induce a higher ami more 
 correct estimate of the value of prosperity, and to in 
 crease the pleasure it affords. Behold the man, whom 
 a wasting disease has long confined to a bed of an 
 guish. His pallid face and emaciated form evince but 
 too clearly the extent of his sufferings. At last, how 
 ever, returning strength invigorates his frame, and joy 
 lights up his countenance. He can now appreciate 
 what he could not before the value of health. He 
 breathes a fresher atmosphere, and views a richer land 
 scape, and tills a mellower soil, and lives a happier life, 
 than before he felt the stings of suffering, and drank 
 from the cup of sorrow. Thus may adversity cause 
 us to estimate more highly the good things we are per 
 mitted to enjoy ; and thus may it augment the pleasure 
 they had otherwise imparted. We are unable to judge 
 of the real value of a particular good, until that good 
 has been taken from us. On its after restoration, or 
 the receipt of a corresponding good, we experience a 
 3* 
 
26 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 higher satisfaction, as well as estimate more properly 
 its worth, than previously the nature of the case 
 allowed. 
 
 Once more : Adversity is suited to awaken a spirit 
 of benevolence on the part of its subjects. On the na 
 ture of this spirit T will not descant. Who does not 
 know that no spirit so pure warms the breast, and in 
 cites the powers of man ? We are not inclined to feel 
 for others, until we know experimentally the sufferings 
 of others. Adversity teaches us these sufferings. Our 
 sympathies, it would seem, must needs be roused, the 
 finer feelings of the soul brought into exercise, our so 
 cial affections extended to every child of want and sor 
 row, and a flame of universal benevolence lighted up 
 within us. 
 
 Such are a few of the tendencies of adversity. Let 
 them be but unresisted Fet not the bad passions and 
 inclinations of man operate against them and who 
 will compute the consequent good ? 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 27 
 
 A W A L K. 
 
 ALL then was still and calm. The orh of day. 
 In all its dazzling splendor, had retired 
 Behind the western hills. No pendent cloud 
 Obscured the heavenly vault, which, here a star, 
 And there a star, of dim and paly light, 
 Presented to the gazer s view. The earth, 
 So late held fast in winter s icy chains, 
 Spring s gentler power, adorning her anew, 
 Was clothing with her livery of green. 
 Musing in thoughtful silence on the works, 
 The wonderous works of nature, which appeared 
 Beneath, around, above, I took my way 
 Through blooming fields, and through inviting woods. 
 
 At the still hour of eventide, when man, 
 And beast, and nature, all incline to rest, 
 Tis sweet to close the book of classic lore, 
 To leave behind Minerva s dusty walls, 
 And, unattended, roam the smiling fields : 
 To trace the rural stream, as now it glides 
 Unruffled on, and now, with murmuring sound, 
 Flies its ungentle bed ; ascend the hill, 
 White with the fleecy flock, whose summit towers 
 Above the neighb ring spire, and bring to view 
 
28 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 A thousand varied scenes : and thence withdraw 
 Into the rich, yet humble vale below, 
 Survey its beauties, pluck its op ning flowers, 
 And breathe its balmy air. Nor only tend 
 Such rambles to relax the mind, and please 
 The fancy, but to elevate the thoughts 
 To him who is the first great cause of all ; 
 Raise them " through nature up to nature s God." 
 
 Onward I passed. Methought nor man s abode, 
 Nor fellow man himself was near my path. 
 The fields I walk d, I seem d to walk alone. 
 The scenes I view d, I seemM to view alone. 
 But no : at length, not distant for, appeared 
 A pensive sage, just entering a rich 
 And verdant bower. The dignity of age, 
 The gravity of thought. made him, in truth, 
 The seeming Genius of the rural place. 
 Forthwith I hasten d to his sylvan shade ; 
 For, although solitude I love, 1 love 
 To tell a friend " how sweet is solitude." 
 " Welcome," he said, " to this my fav rite bower : 
 Removed from all the scenes of active life, 
 Inhabiting alone these still retreats, 
 I love at times to see another s face, 
 And hear another s voice." " Sire," I replied, 
 " Your wrinkled brow, and hoary locks, bespeak 
 You past your threescore years and ten. To you 
 The world must seem divested of those charms, 
 Those gorgeous charms, which unsuspecting youth, 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 29 
 
 Is ever prone to think the world s attire. 
 But is the world bereft of every charm ? 
 Can its society, and its pursuits. 
 Afford you no delight? Or why, my friend, 
 Why thus retire fiom all its diverse scenes? 
 Why live alike unknowing and unknown ? " 
 
 " My tale," he said, " is short, but such, perhaps, 
 As may your youthful ardor damp your hopes 
 Of earthly good depress. I know when life 
 Begins, and life s pursuits are strange and new, 
 We fondly dream, no thorns beset our way 
 No clouds involve our sky. Let age instruct. 
 
 In early youth I chose the students path, 
 I thought it, then, a smooth and flowery track, 
 Which would conduct to happiness. Ofttimes 
 Did sage experience whisper me beware 
 For disappointment lurks in every path. 
 Yet, sure, said I, it cannot lurk in mine. 
 With unremitting ardour I explor d 
 The classic page, and almost nightly trimmed 
 The midnight lamp : resolved to know, in full, 
 What knowledge is, and reap in full its fruits, 
 But all in vain. The more 1 knew, the more 
 I wished to know, and thus the worse my case. 
 Yes, learning said, c tis for from me to give 
 Substantial peace. At length resolv d to try 
 Another, and, I hoped, a smoother path, 
 I courted public honor and applause. 
 
30 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Short was my way to fame. But fame procured 
 
 Is what? Ask Caesar s or Napoleon s tomb. 
 
 Ah ! fame said too tis far from me to give 
 
 Enduring peace. But sure, thought I, the path, 
 
 Which leads to wealth^ must lead to happiness. 
 
 That path I next pursued. For wealth 1 toil d, 
 
 And wealth I soon obtained ; yet, after all, 
 
 A shadowy phantom grasp d. Wealth plainly said, 
 
 "Tis not in me to calm the restless mind. 
 
 Friends once I had. I had ? I had them not : 
 
 For seeming friends are seldom friends indeed. 
 
 The world s false friendship said, tis not in me 
 
 To soothe the turmoil of the human breast. 
 
 At length taught in experience school, I learn d 
 
 The truth life s common are but thorny paths. 
 
 One path remained the path the hermit walks. 
 
 Perhaps, thought 1, the germ of happiness 
 
 May lurk therein : I ll search, at least, and see. 
 
 Here in these still retreats, this calm domain, 
 
 My God my only friend, 1 have a peace 
 
 The busy world could never, never give ; 
 
 Yet whispers even solitude full bliss 
 
 Is bliss divine. " So spake the hoary sage. 
 
 And though the thought impress d me, that to leave 
 
 Life s social walks, although beset with thorns, 
 
 Unable quite to yield the fragrant flowers 
 
 Of unalloy d experience to leave 
 
 Those walks, and live, while live we may, the sons 
 
 Of lone retirement, cannot but evince 
 
 Some lack of perfect wisdom, when the world, 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 31 
 
 A field of such extent, and overrun 
 
 With weeds and tares, but of such promise fair. 
 
 If once restored to its primeval state, 
 
 Calls, calls aloud for laborers yet much 
 
 Of truth I heard, and much the lesson priz d. 
 
 THE LOVE OF NOVELTY. 
 Written at College in the Autumn of 1832. 
 
 SEE now, in mental vision, a caravan just completing 
 their journey over the wide and trackless desert where 
 no natural variety exists to draw the eye, and excite the 
 attention. Why beams every countenance with new 
 animation, and throbs every heart with fresh delight ? 
 Ah ! the sameness and the dullness of the desert no 
 longer mark the way ; but novel scenes, and variegated 
 prospects rise to animate and cheer. 
 
 See, too, the mariner just approaching the shore, 
 after having experienced for months the unwelcome 
 sameness of " the world of waters." Why is pleasure 
 
32 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 depicted on his countenance, the unerring index of his 
 heart, as he beholds at length the port of his destination, 
 and the blue hills that rise beyond it 1 He, too, has in 
 prospect other objects to attract his notice, and novel 
 scenes to awake his interest. 
 
 These are but particular instances in which are 
 manifest the workings of that principle of our nature 
 commonly called the love of nov j elty. It has its seat in 
 every breast : not always, and in all cases possessing 
 equal strength, but never, and in no case failing to 
 operate. The influence of this principle extends to the 
 child in its cradle, as well as the man in his maturity. 
 The infant feels and manifests its power, when the 
 rattle that pleased, and the straw that tickled, are 
 thrown away in dislike or abhorrence, whilst new 
 toys are sought to impart a momentary delight and 
 meet a similar fate. 
 
 In the young the love of novelty is probably strong 
 est. The reason is obvious. We enter the stage of 
 human action unacquainted, of course, with the na 
 ture of our own minds, and the character of terrestrial 
 objects. Possessing an instinctive love of happiness, 
 and knowing not, experimentally, the difficulty of its 
 attainment, we are prone, while young, to cherish high 
 hopes of earthly enjoyment, and to calculate on the 
 unchanging permanency of human things. As one 
 object becomes stale and tiresome, we conclude, in the 
 ardor of youthful feeling, that other obiects cannot dis- 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 33 
 
 appoint our expectations, and yield us no enduring 
 pleasure. Hence we resort to them, with all the eager 
 ness of unsuspecting hope ; allured by their specious 
 promises of perennial good, and propelled by the force 
 of juvenile passion. But as objects after objects lose 
 their interest, and cease to gratify, we learn, by degrees, 
 though seldom perhaps in full, the unsatisfying nature 
 of terrestrial good. Of the attainment of true happiness, 
 derived from worldly sources, we consequently lower 
 our expectations, and moderate our hopes. Thus as 
 we advance in years and experience, we are wont not 
 indeed to lose all love of what is new and strange but 
 to anticipate less from an acquaintance with things not 
 familiar to us, and, of course, to narrow those large 
 desires, and check that wild pursuit, after the objects of 
 novelty, which marked our earlier days. 
 
 The remarks already made lead naturally to the in 
 ference, that the love of novelty is not an independent 
 principle of our nature. It is based upon that ardent 
 desire of happiness, which is seated in the breast of 
 man. Such is the nature of the mind, that that desire 
 cannot be gratified but by variety and change. 
 
 " Prospects, however lovely, may be seen 
 Till half their beauties fade: the weary sight 
 Too well acquainted with their smiles, slides off, 
 Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes." 
 
 Thus while, in our search after happiness, we are 
 wearied and sickened by uniformity and sameness, the 
 4 
 
34 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 strength of our governing passion (to wit, the love of 
 happiness) urges us, continually, to try new means for 
 its gratification, and to lay hold with avidity on what 
 ever is novel and fresh. 
 
 The love of novelty may, and often does, lead its 
 subject beyond the bounds of propriety, and into prac 
 tices of excess. This it does, whenever it incites him 
 to a course of action, which conscience cannot approve, 
 and reason cannot sanction. Every object of novelty is 
 not an object of innocence. Every new pursuit is not 
 a blameless one. Much care, therefore, is requsite, in 
 the regulation and control of the principle in question. 
 If we yield ourselves, unreservedly, to its sway, we 
 must needs run into frequent excesses, and many and 
 palpable errors. 
 
 We propose, in conclusion, to show that a love of 
 novelty, if under a wise restraint, is a source of much 
 rational and innocent enjoyment. Perfect happiness 
 on earth we are not to expect. It is a plant too celes 
 tial in its nature to thrive arnid the damps and frosts of 
 time. But from the world, the man who regards it 
 aright, and abuses it not, may receive a no inconsidera 
 ble amount of enjoyment. That the love of novelty, if 
 suitably controlled, is a source of much that is rational 
 and innocent, must be obvious to every reflecting mind. 
 A thirst for knowledge is common to all mankind. 
 Whatever knowledge is rational and innocent, will 
 probably be allowed to give rise to rational and innocent 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 35 
 
 enjoyment. But the love of novelty, wisely regulated, 
 incites to activity and effort, for the attainment of 
 knowledge of this very description : and such activity 
 and effort, lead necessarily to the acquisition of that 
 knowledge. Hence, if such knowledge is the direct 
 medium of such enjoyment, the principle, which incites 
 to its attainment, is the grand procuring cause of that 
 gratification. 
 
 This we may illustrate by allusions to the various 
 departments of life. Instance, the agriculturist. His 
 love of novelty, if wisely controlled, incites him to com 
 mendable efforts to acquaint himself with new methods 
 of prosecuting the various branches of his employment 
 at once more pleasant and advantageous. Prompted 
 by this natural passion, and seeing ample room for the 
 exercise of his powers of ingenuity and contrivance, 
 he succeeds, perhaps, in effecting some valuable im 
 provement, by which his labors are facilitated, and his 
 interests promoted. A knowledge of these improved 
 methods of prosecuting his business the natural and 
 legitimate result of his love of novelty cannot but 
 yield him a true and innocent satisfaction. For, 
 in the first place, it is information derived, not from 
 others, but through the exercise of his own ingenuity ; 
 and what original thinker does not experience a 
 rich gratification in discoveries purely his own ? And, 
 secondly, his interests are, by this means, effectually 
 advanced. 
 
36 
 
 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Instance too the student. Let the subject of his in 
 quiries be that of Astronomy. Not satisfied with pres 
 ent attainments, he pants after a knowledge of princi 
 ples yet unknown, and truths still more sublime than 
 those already ascertained. If his love of novelty, i. e. 
 of new discoveries in this department of science be but 
 properly controlled, at every stage in his progress he 
 must find open to him a new source of pure and ration 
 al gratification. Indeed how must emotions of admira 
 tion and delight swell his bosom, as on the wings of 
 fancy, and in the clearness of apprehension, he is borne, 
 triumphantly, through those etherial regions, 
 
 " Where system into system runs, 
 And other planets circle other suns." 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 37 
 
 MONUMENTS. 
 
 Written in Dec. 1832 ; a short time before leaving New 
 Haven. 
 
 IT is natural to man to desire to signalize, by visible 
 memorials, those particular spots which circumstances 
 have invested with a peculiar interest. The ancient 
 patriarch, having, on his journey eastward, seen in 
 nightly vision the ladder which reached (o heaven, 
 could not but raise an humble pillar to mark the place 
 where he had witnessed a scene so singular and sub 
 lime. This, we say, was perfectly natural. For man 
 is a social being. When an individual s feelings centre 
 in a particular object, the very principles of his nature 
 incline him to wish that others too may learn what 
 that is in which he feels so deep an interest. That 
 which engrosses his own thoughts and absorbs his own 
 attention, he must, he will communicate to others. But 
 farther : a man s desires are not confined to his cotem- 
 poraries. He wishes not his name to perish with his 
 body. The man, therefore, who has been an actor in 
 a scene of extraordinary interest, is desirous that that 
 scene, and his own connexion with it, may be known 
 and understood in generations yet to come. Especially 
 is this the case, in respect to his own immediate descen 
 dants. Thus influenced, and because, we may add. a 
 4* 
 
38 
 
 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 standing memorial of the scene in question serves to 
 give it an additional interest in even his own estima 
 tion, he very naturally raises a monument to commem 
 orate the same. We conclude, therefore, that the erec 
 tions of monuments by individuals, on appropriate oc 
 casions, is innocent and proper ; for it is a suggestion of 
 nature in her own simplicity, and in perfect accor 
 dance with those principles which render us beings of 
 a social character. Now individuals constitute na 
 tions. The nature of a community differs not in es 
 sence from the nature of an individual. Hence what 
 has been said already in respect to individuals, may be 
 applied to communities. The conclusion then is, that 
 the erection of national monuments also, on particular 
 occasions, is proper and justifiable. 
 
 The following lines were written while at New Haven for 
 his sister Emily Maria ; then a member of the Young 
 Ladies Institute in the same place. 
 
 WHAT all men need, yet most have not, 
 Is this contentment with their lot : 
 Both rich and poor both high and low, 
 Earth s nobler pleasures thus forego. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 39 
 
 For where contentment does not dwell. 
 The heart is but an arid shell. 
 Of just the very meat depriv d, 
 On which true happiness had thriv d. 
 If but contentment rule the breast, 
 This is the seat of peace and rest. 
 Unmov d by fortune s every gale, 
 By every ill that may assail, 
 It throbs not with distracting cares, 
 And no dull load of sorrow bears. 
 Let but contentment reign and there 
 The sky is bright the prospect fair. 
 There no dark clouds terrific roll, 
 T obscure the sunshine of the soul ; 
 No winds, impetuous and drear, 
 Fall, roaring, on the troubled ear ; 
 But all above and all around 
 Is rich in sight, and sweet in sound. 
 
 But true contentment is divine ; 
 And, Emily, may this be thine. 
 
40 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 The following fragments of composition are inserted ; 
 though evidently left by the author in an unfinished 
 state. 
 
 THE MIND. 
 
 THE mind is man s nobler part. It is a something 
 within him which thinks and reasons, compares and 
 determines, wills and refuses. This it is which occa 
 sions and regulates all the motions and actions of the 
 body. It is its main-spring its grand controller. 
 How the mind is connected with the body, so as (o gov 
 ern and control this grosser part of man, by its own 
 will and determination, is more than philosophy has 
 ever explained or genius discovered. But, although 
 the veil of mystery is spread over much that relates to 
 the mind, our subject, notwithstanding, opens a wide 
 field for successful research. 
 
 We propose, in the first place, to consider some of 
 the mind s qualities or characteristics ; and, in the sec 
 ond place, to make such reflections as the subject natu 
 rally suggests. 
 
 First : the qualities or characteristics of the mind. 
 Immateriality is one of its characteristics. The mind 
 is not matter, as is the body. It is wholly and purely 
 spiritual. When the Almighty gave [existence to 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 41 
 
 Adam, our great progenitor, he " breathed into his nos 
 trils the breath of life ; and man became a living soul." 
 The mind, then, is the breath of God pure intelli 
 gence. Hence, it is capable of original action. Matter 
 cannot move until it is forced to move. But the mind 
 moves and acts of itself. 
 
 In consequence of the immateriality of the mind, 
 it is incapable of receiving those injuries and experienc 
 ing those disasters to which the body is constantly ex 
 posed. The rolling machine may sever limb from 
 limb. The daring villain may bury his dagger in the 
 breast. But no force can sever no sword can pierce 
 the immaterial mind. What is spiritual is, of course, 
 inseparable and impenetrable. 
 
 Constant activity is another characteristic of the 
 mind. The body frequently requires and takes repose. 
 It is wearied and exhausted by exercise. Not so the 
 mind. This is ever active. When the body is active, 
 no one can doubt the operations of the mind, since the 
 very exercise of the former depends upon the volitions 
 of the latter. Besides, when the animal functions are 
 not suspended, we are conscious of thinking continu 
 ally ; which shows that then the mind is in ceaseless 
 exercise. True, we may not, during our wakeful 
 hours, be always thinking of our thoughts, and con 
 sequently may not be able at a particular instant of 
 corporal activity to tell what were our thoughts the in 
 stant preceding. But when the body is in action, there 
 
42 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 ir never, undoubtedly, a moment in which we are not 
 sensible of the occupancy of our breast by thoughts of 
 some kind or other. What wakeful man, but always 
 feels some idea, some emotion, some stirring within 
 him? 
 
 The activity of the mind during the hours of bodily 
 repose is frequently displayed in the dreams and visions 
 of the night. These evince the exercise of the mind 
 even when the body rests in the embrace of sleep. 
 The fact that we, upon awaking from sleep, have no 
 recollection of thinking during the whole season of 
 repose, by no means proves that the mind is not in per 
 petual exercise, since we very frequently, at a particu 
 lar period of our wakeful hours, have no recollection of 
 our thoughts at another particular period of them. 
 
 But the nature of the mind proves its ceaseless ac 
 tivity. It is in essence like Angels and God himself. 
 Exercise is, as it were, a part of itself. It can no more 
 cease to be in exercise than Cherubim and Seraphim. 
 Whatever moves and acts of itself must move and act 
 without ceasing. Whenever the mind ceases to act, its 
 power to act, or in other words, its existence ceases 
 too. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 43 
 
 MAN. 
 
 THE world hath much that man counts wonderful, 
 
 Much that astonishes, much that confounds, 
 
 Much baffling all his skill to analyze, 
 
 And all his powers to comprehend ; yet we, 
 
 Ourselves considering, find most that moves 
 
 Our wonder, and eludes our scrutiny, 
 
 But merits, still, our study. What is man ? 
 
 What is that active principle within, 
 
 Which, immaterial, directs and sways, 
 
 As sov reign lord, the frame corporeal ? 
 
 W^hich thinks and reasons, ponders and compares. 
 
 And chooses or refuses ; ever true 
 
 To seeming interest, and jealous much 
 
 Of seeming harm ? A principle, confm d, 
 
 Tis true, and fetter d while its union lasts 
 
 With man s material, grosser part, but one 
 
 Impatient of restraint, and apt to soar 
 
 On fancy s wing, almost as if no clog 
 
 Impeded, far above the empty scenes 
 
 And poor realities of sense, in quest 
 
 Of some imagin d good, more permanent 
 
 And pure, than aught it knows, or earth affords ; 
 
 A principle, evincing thus its home, 
 
 Its proper home, is not a prison-house 
 
44 
 
 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Of clay, and its inheritance no less 
 Than that of immortality itself. 
 Who, as he muses on the soul, endow d 
 With powers so high and noble, and the seat 
 Of aspirations so unbounded, who, 
 Although the rich possessor, is not lost 
 In contemplation # 
 
 HEALTH AND SICKNESS. 
 
 Written in the spring of 1833, during the Author s last sick 
 ness. After a vain attempt to refresh himself by sleep, he 
 took pencil and paper and in a few minutes handed the 
 following to his youngest sister, then about thirteen. 
 
 SEE Health all florid, fresh, and fair, 
 Breathing without the fragrant air ; 
 While Sickness, pale, infirm, and thin, 
 Sits sad and petulant within. 
 
 Cloth d in a habit, plain and neat, 
 Health trips along with nimble feet, 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 45 
 
 But Sickness, clad in loose attire, 
 Keeps, downcast, by the Nursery s fire. 
 
 Though wind and cold should mark the day, 
 Health sings and whistles it away, 
 But Sickness, sheltered from the sky, 
 Does still, meanwhile, hut groan and sigh. 
 
 When night, full punctual, comes round, 
 Health s sleep is purely sweet and sound, 
 While Sickness, with the choicest care, 
 Now rolls in pain, now in despair. 
 
 The following lines were found after the Author s death in 
 his pocket book. They were addressed to his sister who 
 was then in perfect health, but whose death occurred in 
 seven weeks after his own. Their strikingly prophetic 
 character cannot but be observed. 
 
 BORNE on the sea of life, your little bark 
 Is sailing towards its farthest shore. The gale 
 Which wafts it onward is the airy breeze 
 Time s rapid wings produce. Just now, perhaps, 
 The sky above shines bright and fair, nor shows 
 The smallest speck to cloud its canopy. 
 5 
 
46 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Perhaps the sea beneath, resplendent quite 
 
 With the reflected rays the sun emits 
 
 The sun of gay prosperity shows not 
 
 A wave that damps your joy or mars your peace. 
 
 Your bark, perhaps, seems tight and strong and firm, 
 
 And able to withstand what winds may rise, 
 
 And waves may roll, at some far distant day 
 
 Neath some tempestuous sky. But, Emily, 
 
 The sea you navigate may quite deceive 
 
 Th unwary passenger. Quicksands and shoals 
 
 May lurk beneath, when most it indicates 
 
 That all is safe. The cloud may show itself, 
 
 To chill your spirits and to blight your hopes, 
 
 E en whilst you dream of nought save sunny days 
 
 And cloudless skies. The waves may quickly swell 
 
 To mountain heights to toss you, terrified, 
 
 Upon the restless deep, or to engulf 
 
 You, powerless, beneath the angry surge. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 47 
 
 [ Some friends have expressed the wish that letters of this 
 gifted youth should be published. But they are so interwoven 
 with passing events, and with the private feelings and concerns 
 of those to whom they were addressed, that none of them are 
 suitable to be published entire. A few extracts, however, from 
 letters written to his own family will be given, from which 
 will be seen his affectionate manner, and correct style of 
 writing. ] 
 
 Yale College, Jan. 1832. 
 MY DEAR SISTERS, 
 
 I received in due time your last family letter. It 
 found me well, as I still continue. The news it con 
 tained of my respected Grandfather s and Uncle s 
 deaths, was of course unpleasant tidings. Although 
 two of our friends were thus cut down almost together, 
 when we consider how seldom our relatives have been 
 prostrated by death, numerous as is the circle they form, 
 we surely have no cause of complaint. Few circles of 
 connexions, I apprehend, as large as that to which we 
 belong, are thinned less frequently by the inroads of 
 fatal diseases than the one of which ourselves constitute 
 a part. We should, then, be thankful that we and so 
 
48 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 many of our kindred are still blessed with life and 
 health and prosperity, while we drop the sympathetic 
 tear at the loss of our lately deceased friends. 
 
 I am glad you are attending- to exercises in reading, 
 under the instruction of one who probably understands 
 the art. Very few indeed are able to read well. I 
 used to think myself, you know, especially when tak 
 ing pains, a tolerable reader. But how far, how very 
 far short in this respect do I come ! When I hear 
 Professor Goodrich read and speak, \vhy it seems as if I 
 possessed no command of my voice at all. An ability 
 to read with ease, with fluency, with correctness, with 
 sonorousness, and with effect is one of the rarest, but 
 most pleasing and valuable accomplishments. Let it 
 be said that this accomplishment the Misses Barrett 
 possess. To aid you in its acquisition allow me to give 
 you two or three simple rules to follow : 
 
 First. Possess yourselves of great resolution and 
 patience. 
 
 Secondly. Be careful to sound fully every syllable 
 and letter, that admit of being sounded. 
 
 Thirdly. Never read without understanding and 
 feeling if possible the author s meaning. 
 
 Fourthly. Read much aloud. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 49 
 
 Fifthly. Be not satisfied with an ability to read as 
 well as others. 
 
 A short time since I received a letter from our cousin 
 
 . He wrote in his usual interesting manner. 
 
 His main topic was the importance and the difficulty of 
 becoming a good letter writer. He remarked that "out 
 of his twenty or more correspondents, many of whom 
 were liberally educated, not more than two could write 
 a letter." 
 
 During the vacation I attended meeting 1 at the town 
 churches, as the chapel is not open except in term time. 
 On one occasion I heard Edward Beecher, who hap 
 pened to spend a sabbath at New Haven. He is in 
 this portion of the country collecting money for the 
 benefit of the college over which he is President. He 
 has raised about 17,000 dollars. Dr .Beecher of Boston, 
 Edward Beecher his son, and George Beecher, another 
 son, who is now in the theological school here, all 
 graduated at Yale College. The two former held the 
 highest standing in their classes. The Doctor (as Dea. 
 Twining, our steward, informed me) was the son of a 
 blacksmith in this vicinity, and was accustomed him 
 self, when a boy, to swing the ponderous sledge. He 
 received his education through the assistance of a chari 
 table society. 
 
50 
 
 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Yale College, July 20, 1832. 
 MY DEAR PARENTS, 
 
 IT gives me pleasure to lay aside occasionally the 
 abstruse volume, whose constant perusal cannot but 
 weary and tire such beings as ourselves, so fond of 
 novelty and change, and with minds so frequently 
 needing relaxation and rest, and think upon home, 
 that word of nameless charms, where are my dearest 
 friends, and such friends as I never expect to find else 
 where on earth. But as I think of home I am admon 
 ished that something 1 more is due than merely thinking 
 of it. I therefore seat myself to do something that 
 will demonstrate that I do bear you in grateful re 
 membrance. 
 
 My health is very good. There are very few in 
 College, 1 apprehend, who are uniformly as well as 
 myself. Quite a number of my class have already left 
 College on account of ill health. One, you know, 
 there was in my class from New Hampshire beside 
 myself. He has gone on this account. Some of these, 
 however, may by and by return. My own state of 
 health is certainly reason for gratitude. 
 
 My hours are generally occupied, profitably I trust. 
 But I think my college studies are not as hard the 
 present term as they were the preceding terms. Euclid 
 is a delightful study. 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 51 
 
 It is no small gratification to me that sister Emily is 
 here. We see each other about every other day. I 
 hope you will never regret her coming, or my coming 
 to this place : i. e., I hope we shall make such im 
 provement of our privileges here as will recompense 
 you abundantly for all your expense and solicitude on 
 our account. 
 
 We attended, a few weeks since, the ordination of 
 Mr. Stevens, missionary to China. He went away 
 very cheerfully. Said he, " do I regret my determining 
 to go ? Not at all, not at all." 
 
 The minister of East Haven, who gave him the hand 
 of fellowship, in so doing told a story. It was this. 
 " I saw to day a poor old widow. Said she, my hus 
 band was a seaman, and many a year since he died. 
 My sons are seamen. I know the wants of seamen. 
 (Mr. S. you know goes as chaplain to American sea 
 men in Canton.) Here is a chain of gold beads, given 
 me by one with whom I expected, when young, to be 
 united in marriage ; but he was taken from the world 
 by death. I have nothing more to give. This I 
 snatch from my neck, and consecrate, as Mr. Judson 
 advised, to the cause of Christ. Give it, i. e. its value 
 in something useful, to poor seamen, who need moral 
 instruction more than I golden ornaments. And, my 
 brother, I shall give it to you, ere this day closes ; and 
 may others go and do likewise." 
 
 Mr. Patton (from New York city,) who preached Mr. 
 Stevens ordination sermon, compared the American 
 
52 COMPOSITIONS BY 
 
 Seaman s Friend Society, to "a chain let down from 
 heaven to get a sailor s hitch upon the earth, and 
 drag it up." A smile, I assure you, was excited from 
 even the gravest hearers. Several hundreds of dollars 
 were collected for seamen. 
 
 About the same time Mr. Patton made an extempo 
 raneous address hefore the bible society of College. 
 He closed very beautifully. The resolution he was 
 speaking on was that the money of the society be 
 this year appropriated, in full, to the Chinese people. 
 Comparing our bible societies, i. e. the American, to 
 to the eagle, (the bird upon our national flag,) he said, 
 " the eagle has been, and still is, so confined by a cord 
 tied round his leg, that his flight is restricted and his 
 majesty impaired. Some time ago, his liberty was not 
 as great as at present. By and by, by exertion on the 
 part of those wbo regretted his confinement, the cord 
 was lengthened, and the noble bird flew with dignity 
 over a whole court ty. Now throbbed many a heart 
 with joy, and sang many a mouth with thankfulness. 
 Anon the cord was lengthened still more, and a whole 
 state was embraced within the circle of his flight. 
 Now many an eye dropped tears of joy, and many a 
 breast was big with emotion. But at last, (he alluded, 
 you sec, to the progress that marked the supplying of 
 our own country with bibles) at last he was permitted 
 to soar on majestic pinions over the whole of this wide 
 spread land. Now every benevolent heart rejoices that 
 the bird possesses a liberty so great a cord so long. 
 But shall we lengthen that cord no more ? Shall we 
 
JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 53 
 
 be satisfied now ? / say, for one, now let us cut that 
 cord, and let the noble bird fly in majesty and triumph 
 over the whole of this wide world. But, my friends 
 it takes a gold or silver knife to cut it" 
 
 Yale College, Nov. 7, 1832. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER EMILY, 
 
 I WISH I could find time to write you a long and in 
 teresting letter. But I cannot; for my time is exceeding 
 ly occupied. Some parts of last year, I thought, were 
 very well filled up with labors, but they cannot be com 
 pared, in this respect, with the present term. A few days 
 since, our mathematical lesson embraced a point of great 
 difficulty. The author asserted a thing which was left 
 for the learner to prove. The same thing has always 
 been very troublesome to classes before us. I was to re 
 cite the lesson containing it in the morning. Mr. * 
 
 and myself commenced our task about six in the even 
 ing anterior. With little respite from study, we labor 
 ed until two, then slept an hour, then worked till the 
 recitation hour, but all in vain. On going to the recita 
 tion room we found it locked, and ourselves denied ad- 
 
 * The writer s chum. 
 
54 COMPOSITIONS BY J. A. BARRETT. 
 
 mission. Some one who was unable to get the lesson, 
 and wished not to fail upon it, had fastened the door 
 in the night. Our tutor, however, being a strong 
 man, knocked in the door, and compelled a recitation. 
 Many failed on the point of difficulty entirely, and I 
 presume no one had it correctly solved. I was so fortu 
 nate as not to be called upon. Otherwise I should, for 
 
 once, have been obliged to fail. Mr. has since 
 
 studied on this one point about twelve hours, and un 
 successfully : myself about six, and I gained the victo 
 ry. Thus you can form some idea of what we have 
 to do, and the degree of diligence necessary. 
 
 I received your affectionate letter in due time, and 
 thank you for it. I would also acknowledge the re 
 ceipt of one, a few days previous, from my mother. I 
 wish such favors were ten times as frequent. And 
 sure I am if you knew how much pleasure every such 
 favor sends through my bosom, a great part of the 
 time necessarily the seat of rigid, studious thought, and 
 how much actual good the consequent relaxation does 
 me ; sure 1 am your attentions of this description would 
 be oftener repeated. 
 
OBITUARY NOTICE, 
 
 FIRST PUBLISHED 
 
 IN THE 
 
 RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCER, 
 JUNE 8, 1833. 
 
 WRITTEN BY A CLASSMATE. 
 
OBITUARY. 
 
 DIED of consumption, at his father s house in New 
 Ipswich, N. H., on the 20th of April, Mr. JOSEPH A. 
 BARRETT, only son of Joseph Barrett, Esq. The de 
 ceased was a member of the present Sophomore class 
 in Yale College ; and during his connextion with the 
 institution, his unrivalled reputation as a scholar, his 
 penetrating and comprehensive mind, and his peculiarly 
 modest and retiring disposition, secured the respect, es 
 teem and affection of all his associates. And when 
 the ravages of disease made it necessary for him to re 
 tire from pursuits so congenial to his feelings, from the 
 distinguished station of which lie was so eminently 
 worthy, and from a society of which he was justly es 
 teemed the brightest ornament ; the religion of Jesus, 
 as we trust, enabled him to acquiesce, and with pa 
 tience to endure his protracted illness, till he finally 
 died in the peace of the gospel. If the affection and 
 desires of those with whom he was associated could 
 have availed, his stay would have been longer : but 
 Infinite Wisdom only knows, and Eternity alone will 
 6 
 
58 
 
 OBITUARY 
 
 reveal the reasons why one was removed whose pros 
 pects of extensive usefulness were so promising. The 
 Lord s ways are often mysterious ; but, though friends 
 are bereaved, and society is deprived of those who bid 
 fair to be its most distinguished benefactors, He is still 
 the source of consolation, and his language is, " What 
 I do thou knowest not now, but thou slialt know here 
 after." 
 
 " I heard a voice 
 
 That says the dead are blessed, if they die 
 
 In him who died for them. That whoso lives 
 
 Believing shall not die eternally 
 
 That though we he cut down even as the flowers, 
 
 Arid though we flee like passing shadows by, 
 
 Hereafter we may bloom again and stand 
 
 Where all that blooms shall bloom eternally. 
 
 And shadows, like the bitter thoughts of life. 
 
 Can never flit across the holy path, 
 
 Nor darken one forgiving smile of Heaven." 
 
THE FIRES OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 SERMON, 
 
 DELIVERED AT NEW-IPSWICH, N. H. 
 MAY 5, 1833. 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 
 
 JOSEPH A. BARRETT, 
 
 MEMBER OF YALE COLLEGE, AND ONLY SON OF 
 JOSEPH BARRETT, ESQ. 
 
 WHO DIED APRIL 20, 1833, 
 
 AGED 20 YEARS. 
 
 BY CHARLES WALKER, A. M. 
 
 PASTOR OP THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN NE W-IPSWICH. . 
 
SERMON. 
 
 ISAIAH xxiv. 15. 
 " Wherefore glorify ye the Lord in the fires" 
 
 1 SHALL not stop to explain the text nor examine 
 very minutely its connexion with the context. It must 
 suffice that it was suggested by a mourning friend, and 
 that it appears to he an exhortation of the inspired 
 prophet to glorify God in affliction : for " the fires" 
 appear, most naturally, to designate afflictions : and 
 many such "fires" have been kindled up amongst us 
 of late. I see two families whose habiliments of mourn 
 ing were put on during last week. But there was 
 another memorable week. One only had intervened 
 between that and the last. ]t had hardly opened upon 
 us ere we heard the dying groans of an aged revolu 
 tionary soldier. He had been in deaths oft. in the land 
 and naval service of his country; but was never strictly 
 conquered till he surrendered to the king of terrors. 
 
 Again in the midst of the week we were called to 
 attend the funeral obsequies of one who fell in the 
 6* 
 
D4 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 meridian of life. Her sun went down in darkness, in 
 one respect ; for her senses were benumbed, and her 
 tongue palsied. Ah ! what could she have done, had 
 her work for eternity been left till then ! 
 
 But this was not all. Just as the shades of the week 
 were gathering around us, and shutting it in, a beloved 
 youth gently breathed his last. 
 
 Thus, in the course of a single week, a solemn warn 
 ing has been held out to the aged, the middle aged and 
 the young. Can those of any age amongst us look at 
 that brief week and feel themselves safe from the in 
 roads of disease, and the attacks of death ? Go to that 
 Saturday evening scene ! Methinks I can never lose 
 the impression of it myself much less can the parents 
 and the sisters. See the youth, emaciated and feeble 
 indeed, but sitting in his sick chair. Darkness comes 
 suddenly over him. He is hurried to his bed and 
 there, with scarce a groan or struggle, breathes out his 
 life. What, a posture too for a dying man ! Resting 
 upon his side, like one going to sleep ! How quietly 
 did he enter upon an eternal Sabbath ! But hush ! 
 we must check ourselves, lest we get into the midst of 
 things before we are prepared. 
 
 Our text, 1 said, is an exhortation to glorify God in 
 afflictions. And are we not all afflicted? Ts not the 
 community at large afflicted, in the death of that youth, 
 who has recently fallen amongst us ? Not, indeed, as 
 the parents and sisters ; but do we not all participate 
 in this mournful providence, more than in ordinary 
 cases ? 
 
OF JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 63 
 
 In what respects, however, does the death of young 
 Barrett bring the community, as well as the friends and 
 relatives, into the fires of affliction ; and how shall we 
 all glorify the Lord in them ? These questions will 
 form the clue to guide our reflections in the ensuing 
 discourse. 
 
 I. In what respects is this providence an afflic 
 tive event to the community, as well as to the par 
 ticular friends and relatives ? 
 
 I answer, because by it they have lost a young man 
 of promise. And is not this an affliction ? And will it 
 not be felt by all who value the varied interests of so 
 ciety, and who saw his rising worth ? You know, my 
 hearers, I am not in the habit of giving characters. It 
 is a delicate thing to touch the character, even of the 
 dead. But when rare excellence is universally ac 
 knowledged, it is but justice to departed worth, to recall 
 its virtues ; not for display, but lo embalm them in our 
 memories, and copy them in our life. It would be 
 alike repugnant to the feelings of the bereaved family, 
 and my own sense of duty, to dwell upon the character 
 of the deceased in the strain of eulogy. 1 would hold 
 it up purely to be useful to survivors ; and in those atti 
 tudes which may have the happiest moral influence. 
 His was not a perfect character, and none were more 
 sensible of it than himself. 
 
 I said that he was a youth of unusual promise. But 
 what gave this promise ? It was given, I answer, in the 
 unfolding of his mental, social and religious character. 
 There was a certain precosity in his genius : a develop- 
 
(54 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 ment of intellect, far beyond his years. Even when a 
 child the discerning eye naturally cast forward a pro 
 spective glance, and anticipated his future eminence. 
 His early habits of reading were very observable. In 
 a memorandum of his, which the family kindly per 
 mitted me to peruse, he speaks of reading the Bible the 
 third time in course. At this time, as it appears by 
 the date of the memorandum, he was between eight and 
 nine years old. About the same time he wrote several 
 sermons as he called them. It was a season of more 
 than usual religious interest in the place where his 
 parents then resided ; and, in consequence, probably, of 
 hearing sermons, he said to his mother one day, that 
 he thought he could write a sermon. She encouraged 
 him to try ; and since his death, his attempts at ser 
 monizing were found among his papers. On the text 
 in 1 Pet. iv. 3, 4. " For the time past of our life may 
 suffice us, to have wrought the will of the Gentiles, 
 when we walked in lasciviousness," &c. he writes 
 thus : " Sin, that accursed thing sin, was the occasion 
 of our Savior s death ; and he died not only to save us 
 from guilt that we might not be condemned, but to 
 save us also from its power, that it might not rule over 
 us. This double benefit of the Redeemer s death, was 
 signified by the water and the blood w r hich issued from 
 his pierced side ; for St. John says, 1 John v. 6 
 This is he that came by water and blood: by the blood 
 we are justified from the guilt of sin ; by the water our 
 polluted nature is purified." So on the text respecting 
 the rich man and the beggar, he has this language : 
 
OF JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 65 
 
 " In old times, rny friends, there was a certain beggar 
 whose name was Lazarus ; arid there was a certain 
 rich man whose name was Dives ; who fared sumptu 
 ously every day; but Dives was wicked, and Lazarus 
 was good ; and Lazarus did eat of the crumbs which 
 fell from the rich man s table ; and Dives received his 
 good things in his life time, and Lazarus in his life 
 time evil things." In another place he says, "God 
 calls upon you to accept of him ; he calls by a great 
 many ways, but death is the loudest call." 
 
 Now the fact stated respecting his reading before he 
 was nine, and the^e specimens of his composition at 
 the same period, clearly indicate a remarkable vigor, for 
 that early age. In the first of these extracts, especially, 
 you discover a reach of thought, altogether uncommon 
 in such a child. Nor was this a mere momentary 
 flashing of genius ; like the comet that blazes, with 
 fiery redness, for a short time, and then disappears. 
 His mind continued to open with all the richness and 
 ardor of this early promise. Many of you remember 
 how creditably he demeaned himself as a member of 
 the district and sabbath school : and especially the 
 maturity of mind he displayed in the Bible class, and 
 academy : and the manliness and ability with which 
 he instructed in common schools ; and, for a short time 
 in the academy. While at the academy in Amherst, 
 (Ms.) he stood preeminent as a scholar. Soon after 
 entering Yale College, in the autumn of 1831, it was 
 seen that he was destined to occupy high ground in 
 that distinguished seminary ; and when compelled by 
 
66 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 feeble health to leave it, and seek the retreat of his 
 father s house, he left it as the most distinguished in 
 his class. 
 
 With a memory that held thoughts rather than 
 words, he displayed great maturity of judgment. His 
 powers of investigation and analysis were of a high 
 order. The mere outside and surface of things never 
 satisfied him. His views were fundamental, and his 
 mind mastered whatever it touched. His taste, as a 
 scholar, was peculiarly delicate, and he had a keen 
 relish for the beauties of fine writing. His imagination 
 was brilliant, and fervid ; and although there was a sort 
 of cautious moderation which went into the whole of 
 his intellectual character, yet his mind would dart, 
 occasionally, like lightning, over the regions of fancy, 
 culling thence their richest fruits. These mental char 
 acteristics were displayed, especially, in his successful 
 study of language and the mathematics ; and in his 
 compositions. His prose compositions are marked by 
 great perspicuity, simplicity and nerve. His occasional 
 poetic effusions, one of which will be sung at the close 
 of the service, exhibit a chaste and glowing fancy. 
 Thus I might proceed to speak of the powers and the 
 furniture of this young mind ; but I forbear, since other 
 parts of his character demand attention. 
 
 We all know the unaffected modesty and simplicity of 
 his manners. His mind seemed to be cast in the most 
 delicate mould. The sweetness of his disposition, and 
 the generous ardor of his feelings, seemed to entwine 
 themselves with every ligament of his soul. His spirit 
 
OF JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 67 
 
 recoiled at the voice of adulation. His uncommon diffi 
 dence and reserve, however, could not conceal the supe 
 rior excellencies of his character. The veil was too 
 transparent to hide such glowing worth. A sensibility, 
 delicate almost to excess, formed one of the strongest 
 features of his character. Of course he was eminently 
 fitted for the delights of ardent and generous friendship. 
 Whatever interest is awakened, however, in contem 
 plating the intellectual character of this youth, and his 
 native amiableness and modesty : yet what appertains 
 to his religions views and feelings is far more impor 
 tant. His general behavior when a child, and the 
 early specimens of his composition already quoted, 
 clearly indicate a mind seriously disposed at a very 
 early age. As a specimen of his acquaintance with 
 the bible, you noticed his familiarity with the story of 
 Dives and Lazarus telling it in his own language, 
 and with great correctness. Undoubtedly he had seri 
 ous impressions at the age of eight or nine, or earlier. 
 But there was no very distinct and palpable develop 
 ment of a decisive religious influence upon his character 
 till 1831. The influence of the Spirit, shed down here 
 and elsewhere during that memorable season, and the 
 interest manifested by some of his friends, awakened 
 his own mind to deep heart-searchings and anxious 
 solicitude. At this time he had remarkably clear and 
 discriminating views of sin. Indeed this was the prin 
 cipal theme on which he conversed freely. The meth 
 od of salvation through a crucified Redeemer, he indeed 
 apprehended clearly ; but professed no special interest 
 
68 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 in the atonement. He appeared thoroughly convinced 
 that he was a lost sinner ; but dared entertain no hope 
 that he had accepted the provisions of the gospel. 
 Much solicitude was felt for him on his entering college 
 in this apparently critical state of mind : a solicitude for 
 which he afterwards, with much feeling, expressed his 
 gratitude; while he spoke, with deep abhorrence, of that 
 unhallowed ambition which he witnessed, and to which 
 he felt himself exposed. But he seemed, in a good 
 measure, to escape the snare. He pursued his studies, 
 indeed, with ceaseless diligence, and doubtless his ardor 
 led him to prosecute them, in some instances, under 
 circumstances very unfavorable to his health. But 
 the motives of ordinary ambition did not appear to have 
 much influence upon him. However successful his 
 intellectual efforts, they did not satisfy him. Hence 
 the smile of self-complacency was never seen playing 
 upon his countenance. An unconquerable, ever-grow 
 ing attachment to the pursuits of knowledge, furnished 
 a strong impulse : but, as his mind became established 
 in the hopes of the gospel, his religion furnished a far 
 nobler and more efficient motive. In consequence of 
 the extreme caution with which he expressed himself, 
 whenever inquiries were made respecting the exercises 
 of his mind, it is difficult to decide when it became per 
 manently established in the sustaining hopes of the gos 
 pel. During the last autumn, however, something more 
 marked and distinctive appeared than ever before : and 
 in the first interview, after his return from college, he 
 expressed to me hopes and joys such as he never had 
 
OP JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 69 
 
 previously. While his views and feelings, in respect to 
 himself as a sinner, were more radical than ever, he 
 seemed to find relief in Christ. He once remarked, 
 with great earnestness, that Christ, as the aton ing- 
 sacrifice, was the most prominent subject of his con 
 templation : and, indeed, there \vas no theme to which 
 he listened with more eagerness and delight. In short, 
 during his whole sickness, he manifested an uncommon 
 relish for Bible truth. Severe as was the trial to be 
 taken off from his favorite and successful studies, he 
 submitted with patience. Although, in the early part 
 of his sickness especially, he was evidently anxious to 
 recover, yet he seemed to settle down into that quiet 
 and submissive spirit, implied in our Lord s language : 
 " Not my will but thine be done." The energies of 
 his mind, and his extreme sensibility, rendered it some 
 times hazardous to converse with him. He could not 
 let these energies lie dormant in the company of a 
 friend ; and the attempt to summon them up, would 
 seem, sometimes, to prostrate his physical powers, and 
 threaten the demolition of the delicate frame-work of 
 the soul. And it is now demolished. Yes, that youth 
 ful frame lies low in the dust ! 
 
 A mere sketch has been given, as you see, my 
 hearers, of some of the more prominent traits of young 
 Barrett s character. To fill up the outlines, and com 
 plete the picture, would not comport with the design of 
 this discourse. That will be done by those of you who 
 knew him. But enough has been said, I trust, to war 
 rant the declaration made in the outset, namely, that his 
 7 
 
SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 death is a public calamity. It is an event, which has 
 not only brought the family into the fires of affliction, 
 but, in a measure, the community generally : and how 
 shall we all glorify the Lord in them ? This is our 
 II. General inquiry : and here, instead of spread 
 ing out my remarks indiscriminately upon the whole 
 assembly, permit me to invite the attention of specific 
 classes to those methods of glorifying God which this 
 event especially lays open to them. And of these I 
 would name 
 
 Those who can appreciate intellectual worth. 
 There are those, in every community, who, although 
 they may not have had the advantages of a public edu 
 cation, or opportunities for traversing to much extent 
 the scholars ground, yet have discernment to discover, 
 taste and judgment to appreciate, and public spirit to 
 patronize talents and mental endowments: especially 
 when they come out, as they usually do when of the 
 first order, enshrined in the beautiful casement of mod 
 esty and diffidence. Now this class of ray hearers 
 those of them at least who knew the deceased, will feel 
 his death as a calamity that has robbed the community 
 of a rising member. You had watched his progress 
 with interest, and felt an honest pride that a fellow- 
 townsman should so early develope powers of such 
 maturity and vigor. Of course your anticipations were 
 raised. You saw him, in imagination, pass successfully 
 through his studies ; and in public life gathering an 
 influence around him, gratifying to your benevolence 
 and philanthropy. But an unseen hand has taken 
 
OP JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
 71 
 
 him off. Now you should notice that hand ; and re 
 member that the lightning of heaven, which shivers 
 the sturdy oak, may smite the thrifty sapling by its 
 side. God is the author of intellect. He gives mind 
 and controls and regulates its operations. He raises 
 around it the clayey tenement ; and he levels that 
 tenement with the dust, even sometimes amidst the 
 germs of intellect. Check, then, the fond anticipations 
 respecting those who promise much. It may be the 
 fruit is ripening to kill the tree. The mind cannot 
 operate, with great intensity and vigor, and continue 
 the effort for any great length of time with safety to 
 the corporeal powers, until those powers are, to a con 
 siderable extent, developed and matured. But, in 
 ordinary cases, there is little danger from this source : 
 there may be cases, however, and there doubtless have 
 been, in which a premature development of mental 
 power has impaired the physical system. Such an 
 unusual opening of the mind, then, may not, on the 
 whole, be so desirable as at first view it appears. But 
 intellect never should be idolized, at whatever period of 
 life, or under whatever circumstances, the disclosure be 
 made. It is wicked. God is to be worshipped ; and he 
 has declared that he will have no other gods before him. 
 Venerate the power that can, in a moment, blast the 
 fairest prospects, and make a wreck of the mightiest 
 intellect at a stroke. Bow not down and worship so 
 brittle an image, though it be made of the richest 
 materials. They are still earthly. Foster not the 
 pride of talent. It is a baneful spirit. Value intel- 
 
72 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 lectual resources, whether native or acquired, purely as 
 means of usefulness. In the hands of unbridled pas 
 sions they are terrible instruments, used to scourge 
 mankind. While, then, you admire these gifts, let 
 your ultimate homage be paid to the Giver the Infi 
 nite Mind himself. 
 
 Another class, whom this Providence particularly 
 addresses, are christians ; and they, surely, will glorify 
 the Lord in this fire. The departed youth had not, 
 indeed, publicly allied himself with the people of God : 
 but he was with them in heart ; and, when asked 
 whether, in case he recovered, he should make a pro 
 fession of religion : " most certainly," he replied, " if I 
 thought myself prepared." Let, no one, then, who in 
 dulges a hope that he is a Christian, fancy he has the 
 example of this youth to warrant him in neglecting to 
 come out from the world and be separate. It was only 
 a short time previous to his last sickness that his mind 
 became fully established in the hopes of the gospel : 
 and, in his circumstances afterwards, there was no con 
 venient opportunity of publicly confessing Christ. But, 
 although he did not belong to the church militant, we 
 trust he has joined the church triumphant. Yet how 
 inscrutable are the ways of God ! At the very time 
 when his prospects appeared the brightest, he was 
 snatched away. Had he lived, he probably would 
 have entered upon the gospel ministry. To this he 
 looked forward, with special interest, after light broke in 
 more fully upon his mind : and it would seem as 
 though, had he been permitted to qualify himself for 
 
OF JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 
 
 73 
 
 that office, he would have been eminently useful. But 
 he has gone. With the treasures of his mind, and the 
 amiable qualities of his heart alone, he would have 
 gained our affectionate regard ; but in that case, as we 
 " trod lightly on his ashes, 1 we could only have ex 
 claimed All is lost ! But all is not lost now. No, an 
 eternal weight of glory, we trust, is gained. Adore 
 where you cannot fathom, my Christian friends, and re 
 member that the fewer the talents spared to the cause 
 of Christ, the more sedulously should they be employed 
 to promote his interests ; and the more uniformly come 
 under a hallowed influence. As faithful stewards, 
 make whatever is entrusted to you available to the ad 
 vancement of the Redeemer s kingdom ; whether 
 it be one talent or ten. Adore the hand that be 
 stows gospel grace upon gifted minds ; and adore the 
 same hand, too, which blasts those gifts. Grace can 
 not be blasted. It rises, as intellect foils, and gathers 
 immortal bliss around the soul, as it stretches its undy 
 ing powers, in ceaseless vigor, through the realms of 
 light. 
 
 The young men in this place, as well as the fellow- 
 students of the deceased elsewhere, stand ready, I 
 doubt not, to shed a tear upon the early grave of their 
 beloved companion. These are another class who are 
 very particularly called upon to glorify the Lord in view 
 of tins event. And how can tbey do it ? In no other 
 way, surely, than by letting this Providence exert its 
 legitimate effect. You now rejoice in your strength 
 and vigor; and as you cast your eye into the future, the 
 
 7* 
 
74 
 
 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 gay visions of hope and anticipation rise up before you. 
 But they are visions merely. The fields on which 
 your imaginations rove, will never bloom in the fresh 
 ness and verdure, which you anticipate. If the scenes on 
 which your expectations and hopes nowrest,with the most, 
 cheering prospects, come, they will come divested of those 
 attractions, which fancy now throws around them. Your 
 sun may rise bright, and your morning be cloudless, and 
 ere noon-day the sky be overcast. Boast not then of your 
 strength. Are your sinews iron, and is your flesh 
 brass ? What if there be symmetry of form, and ^the 
 glow of health upon your cheek ? Go to that turf still 
 green and fresh ! Go, see that lovely form, so lately 
 glowing with all the freshness of youthful ardor, en 
 shrined in the dark recess of the tomb. That dust 
 was not permitted to crumble till the immortal mind, 
 which animated it, had prepared an invaluable legacy. 
 His example is a sacred deposit, which seems to be in 
 trusted especially to you. Let it never be misapplied. 
 Let its lessons be indelibly inscribed upon each of your 
 hearts. Call them up now, and recur to them fre 
 quently as you pass through life, that you may meet 
 its chequered scenes with a manly and Christian spirit ; 
 and, in action and suffering, display a character credita 
 ble to yourselves, and honorary to Christ. But do you 
 ask what these lessons are? I cannot enumerate them 
 all ; but will aid you in fixing upon a few. 
 
 Never hesitate, for a moment, to make a full and 
 hearty acknowledgment whenever you deviate in the 
 least from the path of strict rectitude. This was a 
 
OP JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 75 
 
 very noticeable trait in the youthful friend who has 
 fallen amongst you. And will any of you say it was 
 not a lovely trait ? Will any say that it bears the 
 marks of imbecility ? Whenever this young man did 
 or said any thing bordering upon disrespect or disobe 
 dience to his parents, or wounding to his associates, he 
 was in the habit of making all the reparation in his 
 power, by humble confession. 
 
 Again, cultivate sobriety. There was much of this 
 in young Barrett. Yet there was nothing bordering 
 upon moroseness or misanthropy. He was ever cheer 
 ful and social. He loved society ; and, in the company 
 of his intimate friends unbosomed himself without re 
 serve. But levity was an ingredient that hardly en 
 tered into his character. His mind rose above trifles. 
 Hence the common amusements of youth were, all 
 along, exceedingly tasteless and insipid to him. 
 
 His modesty and diffidence, I hardly need urge upon 
 you as worthy of imitation. They always sit grace 
 fully upon the youthful brow ; and gloomy are the 
 prospects of that young man, who sees nothing lovely 
 and attractive in them. How disgusting the spectacle of 
 a youth, rushing upon the ground which belongs to his 
 seniors : unwilling to wait till circumstances and public 
 sentiment bring him fc -ward. It was not so with him 
 whose example I would have you imitate. With all 
 his intellectual merit, and high reputation as a scholar, 
 he shrunk from the public gaze, and almost trembled 
 as be rose to speak in public. 
 
 But, young men, you had better pass over all his 
 
76 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 other traits than fix slightly upon his religion ; for that 
 was the crowning excellence of his character. He was 
 a praying youth. He was a broken hearted sinner, re 
 lying wholly upon the merits of Christ. His religion 
 was not a religion of flights and fancy. He spoke not 
 of ecstacy, indeed, hut there was a heavenly peace : 
 calm, deliberate and distinct views of bible truths : 
 truths which his mind seemed to go out to meet, be 
 cause they coalesced with the feelings and temper of 
 his heart. His religion breathed benevolence. This 
 was tested, especially, in his contributions to the re 
 ligious charities of the day. His attachment to the 
 house of God was strikingly manifested in his continu 
 ing to attend public worship, long after disease had 
 commenced its ravages upon his frame. What a re 
 proof to those who are deterred, by the slightest incon 
 venience, from visiting the temple of God 1 
 
 Barrett entered College under deep religious im 
 pressions, and it is worthy of notice that they seemed to 
 mature even amidst its temptations. What a lesson to 
 those whose seriousness, under far more favorable cir 
 cumstances, becomes like the morning cloud and the 
 early dew ! 
 
 Now, young men, with that wisdom which is from 
 above, you may profit from his life and his death. 
 Without it, the fruits now fresh upon his grave will 
 wither before they are gathered. O try not the fearful 
 experiment of living without religion. Without it 
 whatever else you have, you cannot fill the vacancy 
 
OP JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 77 
 
 made by the fall of this youth. Without it, you cannot 
 lie down composedly on the bed of death yourselves. 
 
 But there is another class, and time admonishes me 
 to hasten and address them. They are in the fires of 
 affliction emphatically. These fires burn fiercely a- 
 round them. They are in the midst of the flame. 
 But, my friends, you recollect the story of the three 
 men, whom the king 1 of Babylon cast into the burning, 
 fiery furnace. The king looked, and lo ! a fourth was 
 seen with the rest in the furnace ; and his form was 
 like the Son of God ! He was the Son of God truly ; 
 and is he not with you ? He is always with his people 
 in their afflictions. He is sitting (as another Scripture 
 strikingly represents him) like a refiner, who watches 
 the crucible, and when the metal is sufficiently purified, 
 extinguishes the flame. So Christ is watching you, 
 while in the fires, and will regulate the flame just as 
 the case demands. I am not insensible that there 
 are many bitter ingredients in your cup of affliction. 
 Joseph was your only son; he was your first born. No 
 wonder, then, that your hearts should be greatly bound 
 up in him. But, although you were his earthly pa 
 rents, remember he had a Father in heaven ; and, dear 
 as were you to him, yet, we trust, his heavenly Father 
 was dearer. He has left his earthly parents, who, at 
 best, could only contribute to his comfort and usefulness 
 here, to enter upon an inheritance incorruptible and 
 undefiled, and that fadeth not away ; these fragile and 
 decaying mansions for a house not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens. 
 
78 SERMON ON THE DEATH 
 
 He was, too, I know, an amiable and promising 
 child. His whole demeanor was marked with such 
 kindness, respect and affection as shed a most delightful 
 influence over the family circle. All your fond antici 
 pations, in respect to his future usefulness, are ended ; 
 and your hopes, raised high as they were, are hlighted 
 and withered. But have you not been accustomed to 
 identify your own happiness with his ? Fix your eye, 
 then, upon that higher sphere, in which, we trust, he 
 now moves. Like the orb of day, when the heavens 
 are hung in blackness, his light is obscured ; but, like 
 that orb. it glows still, concealed as it is from human 
 view. Wherefore "glorify ye the Lord in the fires." 
 This has been a precious portion, all along in your 
 affliction. Dwell upon it still. Perhaps you were in 
 danger of idolizing your son. Let the affections that 
 centered in him, with such intensity, be transferred, 
 with accumulated strength, to his Saviour and your 
 Saviour. 
 
 And is there any thing which can mitigate the grief 
 of these sisters? There is much, surely, adapted to 
 moderate their sorrow, although there is nothing but 
 the balm of Gilead can heal the wound which has been 
 inflicted. Your brother was indeed deservedly dear to 
 you : but those qualities, which made him so, and 
 which give poignancy to your grief, are the very ones, 
 for aught you know, which, hallowed by gospel influ 
 ence, fitted him for a higher sphere. The deeper the 
 affliction, too, the more effectually will it promote your 
 spiritual interests, if it be properly improved. May it 
 
OF JOSEPH A. BARRETT. 79 
 
 bring you all upon the ground of the decided, active 
 Christian; and may you come out of this furnace like 
 gold seven times refined. You remember the cautions, 
 admonitions and instructions of your brother. I trust 
 they will never be erased from your memory. Some of 
 them are embalmed on your Album. Thence they 
 will never be obliterated, unless by the falling tear. 
 Copy out his precepts and example in )^our own life, 
 and thus embody, in an imperishable form, whatever 
 was most valuable in your departed brother ; that when 
 these heavens are no more, and his body with yours 
 shall rise, they may bloom in immortal youth. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Composed by the deceased, referred to in the preceding dis 
 course, and sung after the sermon. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 O THOU, who reign st in Heaven above. 
 Where all is peace, and joy, and love, 
 And hope forever bright ; 
 Prostrate I bow before thy throne, 
 And humbly my transgressions own, 
 So heinous in thy sight. 
 
80 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 Thou art a God exalted high, 
 
 In glory and in majesty, 
 
 Above my highest thought ; 
 
 Yet thou, O Lord, dost condescend 
 
 To be to those a gracious friend, 
 Who serve thee as they ought. 
 
 For thine assistance now I pray, 
 
 O may I never go astray, 
 
 Nor walk forbidden ground ; 
 
 Preserve my feet and guard my heart, 
 
 And may I seek that better part, 
 
 Which Mary sought and found. 
 
 May I receive thy word as truth, 
 Make it the portion of my youth, 
 And grow in heavenly grace ; 
 O may I ever, ever share 
 Thy tender, thy paternal care 
 And reconciling face. 
 
 And when with things below I ve done, 
 
 Well may my earthly course be run, 
 
 And I prepared to die ; 
 
 Then shall my spirit soar away 
 
 To regions of eternal day 
 
 And bliss beyond the sky. 
 
COMPOSITIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 EMILY M. BARRET T. 
 
 WITH A BRIEF 
 
 SKETCH OF HER CHARACTER. 
 
COMPOSITIONS, 
 S,c, 
 
 [Most of the literary productions here published were the 
 author s weekly exercises in composition, while attending the 
 Young Ladies Institute in New-Haven, Conn. Nearly all of 
 her writings she destroyed, being always decidedly opposed to 
 any thing like publicity extending to the productions of her 
 pen. A few only are preserved, which we insert below, not 
 on account of their containing particular literary merit, but as a 
 gratification to surviving friends.] 
 
 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 BY the aid of History, we learn that the practice of 
 devoting certain portions of time to amusements has 
 been almost coeval with man. The particular kinds 
 selected by him have been various. I believe that 
 hunting wild beasts was among the most ancient. Thus 
 Nimrod is said to have been a mighty hunter. This 
 kind of amusement has probably been pursued with 
 more or less constancy and ardor, during the time inter 
 vening between his day and the present. That it tends 
 to promote the strength and dexterity of the physical 
 
84 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 frame is obvious ; but that it also tends to render 
 callous the native delicate sensibilities of the soul must 
 be equally so. 
 
 At length, as a taste for intellectual labor increased, 
 mere bodily exercise had not sufficient charms ; and 
 amusements, uniting" both these constituents, became 
 popular. Of this character were the ancient tourna 
 ments and Grecian games ; which engaged for a con 
 siderable time the attention not of individuals only, but 
 of whole communities and nations. The original de 
 sign of these occasional assemblages was, doubtless, not 
 merely to render vigorous the body, but also to inform 
 the understanding, amuse the fancy, and refine the 
 taste : and such was probably their effect for a 
 season. 
 
 The theatre had. originally, a similar object, and, 
 to a greater or less extent, it attained that end. But, 
 at the present day, owing to a deviation from the right 
 method of conducting them, or from some other cause, 
 a constant attendance on theatrical exhibitions is suc 
 ceeded by very different consequences, a love of dissi 
 pation, aversion to the performance of ordinary duties, 
 and a disrelish for more substantial entertainment, 
 being the almost invariable results. 
 
 The more insignificant kinds of amusements, or such 
 as are employed by certain individuals to occupy their 
 feeble attention, while, in their view, time and life roll 
 slowly on, it is vain to attempt to enumerate. The 
 effects of disposing of time, in this way, are in a 
 measure manifest to the mind of every one. To those, 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 85 
 
 who have the most rational views of the subject, it 
 seems strange and lamentable, that man should so 
 degrade his station and disregard his truest interest, as 
 to cleave, with childish fondness, to futile and forbidden 
 trifles. 
 
 The great liability of amusements of every kind to 
 lead to these fearful results, justifies the precaution to 
 engage in them with the greatest care and moderation. 
 
 ENTHUSIASM. 
 
 ENTHUSIASM, I apprehend, is a natural or acquired 
 ardor of feeling, founded on the degree of importance 
 we imagine the object on which we are employed to pos 
 sess. And, if our estimate of the relative value of ob 
 jects be materially affected and modified by the influ 
 ence of example, by local situation, by previous habits, 
 the varied exhibitions of this attribute of mind, by 
 different individuals, may be easily accounted for. It 
 is a law of our nature that, whatever undertaking we 
 deem important, necessarily inspires us with a zealous 
 and enthusiastic spirit. Hence it follows that our en 
 thusiasm may be the result of just and correct views 
 of the subject, or of over-rating its importance ; from 
 which latter kind may result incalculable evil. Thus 
 we see the necessity of estimating things according to 
 their real worth, that we may bestow our efforts on ob 
 jects worthy of them. This ardor or zeal, when hap 
 pily directed, is necessary to the execution of any pro- 
 8* 
 
86 
 
 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 ject. It may be called the parent of success. By it 
 have all the memorable achievements of past ages been 
 accomplished. Yes, the heroes of old believed liberty, 
 victory, and military glory, worth striving for : and, 
 influenced by this belief, they were urged on, through 
 opposition, and danger, and peril, to fight manfully for 
 the attainment of this good. 
 
 And how came ourselves, in modern times, in pos 
 session of national independence and its attendant 
 blessings ? In consequence of the same ardor and 
 zeal, exercised by the undaunted hero of our coun 
 try. And what enabled him to labour so assidu 
 ously, and suffer so courageously ? A knowledge of 
 the importance of the object, I answer. The value of 
 freedom he realized ; and a prospect of securing and 
 imparting to his countrymen a blessing so inestimable, 
 seems to have been the grand spring of his illustrious 
 efforts. 
 
 In short, we have abundant evidence, from the na 
 ture of the case, that a degree of ardor and energy is 
 necessary, would we attain any good, whether civil, 
 intellectual, moral, or religious. 
 
 P RISC ILL A N . 
 
 ON the 20th of June, 1830, I left the populous city 
 of L. with its necessary confusion, to reside for a season 
 in my own native village. The prospect of revisiting 
 that delightful spot, of again meeting my beloved friends 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 
 
 87 
 
 and associates, and once more participating in their joys 
 and sorrows, was accompanied with emotions of pecu 
 liar interest. I then felt that attachments, formed in 
 the early period of life, especially when founded on vir 
 tuous excellence, are indeed the most lasting and 
 powerful. I soon found myself, as formerly, surroun 
 ded by not a few, whose expressions of friendship 
 undissembled saluted my ears. From the eyes of 
 those, who were wont to look upon me with the most 
 lively and tender solicitude, still beamed the same affec 
 tionate concern. 
 
 But those who best know what changes the lapse of 
 a few years can produce, especially in the young, are 
 able to conceive the alterations of character and appear 
 ance I saw manifest in my former playmates. Those, 
 whose virtues, when I last saw them, were concealed in a 
 measure from human view, in the bud of early childhood, 
 I found now, in more advanced youth, beautifying the 
 surrounding objects, and extending the odour of their 
 influence, through the whole adjacent region. Among 
 those of this interesting class, stood pre-eminent the case 
 
 of Priscilla N , which it is my present object to 
 
 describe. 
 
 She received from nature the gift of a beautiful per 
 son, together with moral qualities truly engaging, and 
 evinced the possession of mental endowments of a su 
 perior order. Such attractions centering in her, it seems 
 not strange that the affections of her parents should en- 
 twine themselves round so lovely an object. Still they 
 suffered not the gift to engross their attention to the ex- 
 
COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 elusion of the exercise of becoming gratitude towards 
 the benevolent Giver. They were aware of the vast 
 importance of rightly nurturing this plant immortal ; 
 and to inculcate within her virtuous principles and 
 give a happy direction to her ductile powers, was 
 made the primary object of their life. And they suc 
 ceeded in their well-aimed endeavours ; for she gave 
 proof of such genuine integrity and vigour of intellect, 
 as rendered her the delight of the good, and the admi 
 ration of the great. Thus was her early character 
 considered, and well might high expectations exist as to 
 enjoying the progressive developement of her virtues. 
 
 But this they were not to enjoy : for she was soon 
 transplanted to a more pacific climate, where her virtues 
 were destined to unfold beneath a more genial influence, 
 than that which enlightens our orb, so marred, of a 
 Sun more glorious. 
 
 HUMAN VICISSITUDES. 
 
 WHO, that has the feelings and sensibilities of hu 
 manity, has failed to be affected, now and then, at a 
 view of the changes and vicissitudes incident to man 
 kind ? Go back, in imagination, to the time when our 
 world was first made the habitation of man, and look 
 " through the long vista of ages" up to the present cen 
 tury and say, can the mind resist an emotion of mel 
 ancholy at the ever- vary ing scene ? Where now are 
 the inhabitants, with all the learning, the wealth, and 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 89 
 
 the glory of ancient Egypt ? Let the catacombs of 
 Cairo answer. Where now is Assyrian greatness, and 
 where Chaldean splendour ? Let the ruins of Nineveh 
 arid Babylon say. Where now are the refinement and 
 glory of ancient Greece ? Let modern Setina and Mi- 
 sistra tell. Where now is ancient Rome, with her six 
 millions of inhabitants the proud mistress of the 
 world, and the seat of every art ? Let Rome at present 
 reply. Where too are the red men, that once roamed, 
 so numerous, the wilds of America ? Ah, the moul 
 dering bones of thousands, and the complaining voices 
 of a surviving few, give but too true a response I 
 
 Striking indeed are the changes, which have marked 
 the course of nations and communities. Behold their 
 history. They rise, they thrive, they bloom ; they 
 decline, they fade, they die. How many nations, 
 whose name was once a name of spotless splendour, 
 whose sway was once a sway of all-commanding 
 power, whose promise was once a promise of perennial 
 prosperity, have now sunk to rise no more ! One 
 community has swallowed up another, and been itself 
 swallowed up in turn. 
 
 Take too a view of individuals. Once a Homer 
 lived the first successful wooer of the heroic muse 
 the envied object of universal praise. A few short years 
 beheld him the glory of his age the boast of his 
 countrymen ; and Homer was no more. Once a Cicero 
 adorned the Roman state a master of eloquence, a 
 model of patriotism. A few revolving years saw 
 him captivating by his oratory the attentive, gazing 
 
90 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 crowd ; supporting, by his power, the assaulted fabric 
 of the republic ; embellishing, by his writings, the lit 
 erature of his country ; and Cicero was not. Once 
 a Milton acted upon the stage of life, the acknowledged 
 leader of modern bards. Some annual suns rolled over 
 him, while he was engaged in public and poetic labours, 
 and carving, perhaps unconsciously, his name high 
 upon the pillar of Fame, and Milton was not. Once, 
 too, a Newton lived a philosopher, who shone the 
 brightest star in the firmament of science. A few fleet 
 ing years, and Newton had ceased to be on earth. 
 
 But I forbear. We need not search the pages of 
 history, and look back, through the long lapse of ages, 
 to find examples to illustrate and prove the transitory 
 nature of temporal scenes, and the unsatisfying nature 
 of every pleasure derived from an earthly source. For 
 we ourselves in our limited experience have witnessed 
 " life s checker d scenes." How often has our own cup 
 of life, promising once an overflowing draught of un 
 mixed delight, been suddenly embittered by disappoint 
 ment and death. Finally, in view of the impossibility 
 of receiving complete and permanent happiness from 
 any terrestrial object, how indispensably important it is 
 that we secure 
 
 u Those golden joys ambrosial. 
 
 Which, clustering, grow on life s fair tree, 
 
 Fast by the throne of God, 
 
 And ripen for the just, 
 
 When momentary ages are no more." 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 91 
 
 The following article was written at N. I. while attending 
 school. A discussion was proposed upon the question, 
 " Which is deserving of most praise, Columbus for dis 
 covering America, or Washington for defending his 
 Country." 
 
 WE are now discussing the comparative merits of 
 two eminent characters the one the discoverer of our 
 continent, the other the defender of our country. It de 
 volves upon me to maintain that Columbus is deserving 
 of more praise and honor than Washington. This I 
 shall attempt to prove by showing that the projection 
 and execution of the plan of Columbus, namely, a voyage 
 to the west to discover land unknown to the nations of 
 the eastern continent, actually required a greater genius, 
 a more discerning and investigating mind, than the 
 achievements of Washington in the defence of our 
 country. 
 
 Just consider the times and the circumstances in 
 which my hero lived. To the generality of the people 
 around him, indeed I might say to all save his own 
 discriminating self, the idea of the existence of land 
 far, far away in the western waters, was in the highest 
 degree absurd and preposterous. Like a great philoso 
 pher, whose views and principles are unintelligible to 
 common capacities, he formed an opinion that there 
 existed in the western hemisphere, either a vast conti 
 nent by itself, or an extensive territory connected with 
 
92 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 Asia. This opinion was treated with scorn and de 
 rision, not only by men of ordinary minds, but even by 
 the most learned and sagacious of his age. Now the 
 fact that he alone of all the magi of the east actually 
 formed this opinion, and adhered to it, notwithstanding 
 the insults which on account of it he received, and the 
 prejudices he had to combat, strongly proves the depth 
 of his understanding, and the profoundness of his mind. 
 Others in Europe there were, who like Washington 
 could skilfully and bravely command an army, but no 
 others in Europe there were, who had genius sufficient 
 to devise, and resolution sufficient to execute the glori 
 ous scheme of Columbus. See him standing unshaken 
 amid the scoffs and the sneers of the multitude, and 
 persevering in his grand and heroic enterprize, not 
 withstanding he met with scarce any encouragement, 
 but much opposition from others, until finally he opened 
 to the view of the Eastern World, ungrateful as it was, 
 a new, rich, and extensive continent. And now tell 
 me, whether his genius and intrepidity are not more 
 apparent than those of Washington, who was aided 
 and supported in all his undertakings by three millions 
 of friends? Now, since I think it is evident that a more 
 discerning mind and a greater genius are evinced by 
 Columbus in the discovery of America, considering the 
 times and the circumstances in which he lived, than 
 are evinced by Washington in the defence of his coun 
 try, let us all I do not say cease to honor Washington, 
 but let us all unite in louder strains to celebrate the 
 praise of Columbus. 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 93 
 
 It is asserted that Columbus, in sailing for the East 
 Indies, discovered our continent by chance, but if by 
 chance, it was intentional chance, and such in a good 
 cause is always entitled to commendation. It was in 
 deed just such chance, except a more honorable one, as 
 that by which the celebrated navigator, Capt. Cook, 
 made his numerous discoveries ; and who so little, who 
 so foolish, as to say that even he, a navigator of the 
 pigmy kind in comparison with Columbus, for these 
 discoveries merits no commendation, because if he had 
 happened to sail in a different direction, they would not 
 have been made ! The object of Columbus was to 
 discover land in the west. It was impossible for him to 
 tell whether there was in the western hemisphere a 
 continent per se : or whether Asia and the East Indies 
 extended round and occupied a large part of it. But 
 as my opponents would have it, suppose for once that 
 his principal object was the discovery of the East 
 Indies. He did discover, if you please, the great East 
 India island now called America. 
 
 From what has now been said by me and others, we 
 see that the inventive and fruitful mind of Columbus, 
 which prompted him to the noble enterprise of discov 
 ery, opened the way for the emigration of the Pilgrims 
 to this country, and laid the foundation for the estab 
 lishment of that amount of peace, happiness, and politi 
 cal glory (involving all that has been gained through 
 the instrumentality of Washington, and his coworkers) 
 which is now enjoyed in this enlightened land. 
 9 
 
94 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 CONVERSATON BETWEEN A GEN 
 TLEMAN AND HIS SON. 
 
 Written during the summer of 1932, at Neic Haven. 
 
 Son. FATHER, are you at liberty to listen to, and 
 answer some inquiries I have to make ? 
 
 Father. I think of nothing- in particular, that de 
 mands my immediate attention ; but, my son, in rela 
 tion to what subject do you wish information ? 
 
 (Son. A subject of which, until yesterday, I was not 
 aware of being so ignorant, but when called upon to 
 relate the distinguishing properties of an animal, a 
 stone, and a plant, 1 was at a loss how to proceed, not 
 withstanding the ease with which we distinguish them 
 in practical life : and as I now feel interested in the 
 subject, I should be glad if you would tell me all 
 about it. 
 
 Father. I am sensible that for the purpose of ana 
 lyzing the bodies belonging to the several kingdoms, of 
 which those you mentioned constitute a part, so as to 
 observe their distinguishing characteristics, not much 
 attention is often paid to the subject. What knowledge 
 I possess, relative to it, I will gladly communicate. In 
 the first place, instead of the former classification of 
 material objects, into mineral, animal, and vegetable 
 kingdoms, a more philosophical division of natural 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 95 
 
 objects is, into such as are possessed of life, and such as 
 are not possessed of life. In consequence of this, ani 
 mals and vegetables are brought into one class, and all 
 mineral substances into the other. In many striking 
 respects we shall perceive, on a careful examination, 
 living bodies differ from the inanimate part of creation. 
 First, in the mode of their origin the former being de 
 pendent on the existence of previous individuals, simi 
 lar to themselves. Thus, you know, plants germinate 
 from the seed of some other plant, of a similar nature. 
 This, you perceive, is an obvious distinction, inasmuch 
 as no mineral is formed in this way. Now, you see, 
 we have found one circumstance in which an animal or 
 plant differs from a stone. 
 
 Son. Yes, father, and one which it seems almost 
 strange I did not at once recollect. 
 
 Father. But to proceed, living bodies differ from 
 minerals as to the mode in which their existence is con 
 tinued, being dependent upon other things for materials 
 to support it. The nature of which they are composed 
 undergoes a constant change, and part of it is at length 
 expended ; this loss must be repaired. Hence the ne 
 cessity of applying nourishment of a suitable nature to 
 every living thing. Whereas minerals contain in them 
 selves whatever is necessary to their preservation ; and 
 are to be destroyed only by the operation of mechani 
 cal powers or chemical action. In the third place, not 
 withstanding the dependence of living bodies on other 
 substances for the means of continuing their existence, 
 they possess, in one sense, a kind of independence upon 
 
96 COMPOSITIONS OP 
 
 all other matter. They contain within them a princi 
 ple which enables them to resist the operation of those 
 physical and mechanical laws which cause the destruc 
 tion of other bodies, deprived of this vivifying princi 
 ple. Likewise the principle of internal heat is observed 
 to be n. concomitant of animal life. 
 
 Son. If I understand yon rightly, most of the dif 
 ferences you have related are circumstances of distinc 
 tion common to living bodies, both animal and vegeta 
 ble. I should like to know what particular property it 
 is that constitutes the difference between these two 
 kingdoms. 
 
 Father. This one distinguishing principle never 
 has been discovered : but the difference consists in vari 
 ous circumstances, the most important of which I shall 
 mention. They are found to possess different organs, 
 a different structure, and a difference in the principles 
 that actuate them. First, this appears from their dif 
 ferent modes of taking and digesting food. In animals, 
 food is taken by the exercise of volition, being affected 
 unpleasantly by the sensation of hunger. The same 
 is not true with respect to vegetables. Secondly, ani 
 mals are furnished with internal organs, whose office it 
 is to operate upon the food taken into the body, and fit 
 it to sustain and nourish the same. In plants, on the 
 contrary, there are no such internal organs for diges 
 tion, but the nourishment is absorbed from the earth by 
 the roots. Thirdly, animals differ from vegetables in 
 the nature of their food. They do not like plants re 
 ceive for nourishment the mere elements of nature, but 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 97 
 
 require substances previously organized. Fourthly, an 
 imals differ from vegetables in the time of taking their 
 food. While the latter are constantly in contact with 
 the substances from which they derive their support, 
 the former, at certain periods only, when stimulated by 
 appetite, seek a supply of food. Also, sixthly, the 
 structure and form of vegetables are another mark of 
 distinction. I need not dwell upon their relative differ 
 ences, for although in some few instances the line of 
 distinction seems hardly discernible, in general the dis 
 crimination is made with the greatest facility. Farther, 
 the composition is not the sains in the two classes of 
 bodies, Besides the three elements oxygen, hydrogen, 
 and carbon, essential to vegetables, nitrogen is necessa 
 ry to animal existence. From the view I have taken 
 of the subject, I trust you perceive that the distinction 
 in the several objects around us, consists not in one 
 principle only, admitting of a precise definition, but 
 that the difference must be sought in their mode of ori 
 gin, mode of continuing in existence, in their relative 
 organs for taking and digesting food, in the nature of 
 their food, in the time of taking nourishment, their 
 structure and composition. From observing these dif 
 ferences, we may reasonably deduce another important 
 one, namely, that animals possess powers of sensation, 
 perception, and volition, by which they acquire a 
 knowledge of the existence and qualities of other 
 bodies, and, by means of these organs and powers, are 
 fitted to enjoy existence. 
 
 Finally, my son, cultivate a spirit of inquiry, and 
 9* 
 
98 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 although the benefits of so doing may be concealed 
 from you now, they will, in the course of time, unfold 
 themselves. 
 
 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY LEAVING 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 SCARCELY any occurrence has a greater tendency 
 to excite the different emotions of sorrow and joy, than 
 the expiration of a school term. Sorrow may be ex 
 pected, inasmuch as our immediate connection with 
 our companions is dissolved and perhaps for life. We 
 have reason for sorrow, too, if upon examination we 
 find our relative duties have not been promptly and 
 faithfully performed. I have known an instance of 
 severe and heartfelt regret, occasioned by a conscious 
 neglect of these specific duties. Many of us have, 
 doubtless, reason to lament over our deficiencies in this 
 respect. How many acts of kindness have we superfi 
 cially done, and how many, devolving upon us, have 
 we neglected altogether. Evident is the truth of the 
 sentiment that " opportunities neglected occasion sor 
 row." When we reflect, too, on the many ways in 
 which we have erred in fulfilling our duties to our 
 teachers we have cause for sorrow for our frequent 
 inattention to their instructions, for the indocility and 
 intractableness we have too often manifested ; we have 
 cause of sorrow, in short, for our nonobservance of the 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 
 
 99 
 
 duty to " render honor to whom honor is due." Again, 
 we have occasion to sorrow for the imperfect performance 
 of the duties we owe to ourselves. Instead of exerting 
 our utmost to strengthen our powers, and enrich our 
 minds, and improve our hearts, how have we yielded to 
 indifference and inaction ! But in sundering our relation 
 with the Young Ladies Institute, can we feel that there 
 is no source of joy or pleasure ? True, we are to sep 
 arate from our new made friends, but it is a consoling 
 truth that enjoyments of youth afford almost equal de 
 light, when recalled by memory as when originally ex 
 perienced. And our personal improvement, though 
 much less than with sufficient effort it might have 
 been, we hope is perceptible. 
 
 May the knowledge we have here acquire d, be so 
 retained and employed, as to yield profit to ourselves, 
 and honor to our teachers. 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 AMONG the works of the Almighty, as displayed in 
 the material world, Man stands preeminent. He is 
 endowed with intellectual powers and faculties : so that 
 in respect to the capacities of his mind, he maintains a 
 rank in the scale of created beings, second only to that 
 held by the " angels of light." Nor are his existence 
 and importance to terminate at the close of this present 
 life. The soul which he possesses is destined to live 
 
100 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 forever, and that too, either in a state of perfect happi 
 ness, or one of perfect misery. Whether he finally be 
 comes a partaker of heavenly felicity, or not, depends 
 upon his compliance or noncompliance with certain 
 known conditions. But although the light of reason 
 alone is sufficient to direct his eye through nature up 
 to nature s God ; to discover unto him the adorable 
 perfections and character of his Maker ; to point out to 
 him the path which leads down to the chambers of 
 eternal death, and that which conducts to the realms of 
 everlasting bliss, the Almighty, out of mere love and 
 benevolence, has given to him a revelation of his own 
 will and purposes, and thus made still plainer to him 
 the course, by the taking of which he may secure to 
 himself a crown of glory a heavenly inheritance. 
 And this revelation is styled the Bible. This holy 
 volume, since its first appearance in our world, has 
 been considered by the truly wise and good, as a book, 
 which more than all others is entitled to our attention 
 and regard. I shall now proceed to state some of the 
 reasons why it should be more highly prized, and more 
 attentively perused than other writings. First, one of 
 its peculiar excellencies consists in the purity, strength, 
 and sublimity of its language. All persons of refined 
 taste and correct literary judgment, who are acquaint 
 ed with this sacred volume, concur in pronouncing it 
 the most perfect specimen of fine original style, striking 
 imagery, and happy illustration that has ever come 
 within the knowledge of man. By every lover of the 
 plain, the beautiful, the grand and sublime, the Bible, 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 101 
 
 considered merely with respect to its language, cannot 
 but be really admired, and really prized. No other 
 book is so well calculated to elevate the genius of the 
 scholar, and inspire the true spirit of eloquence. " I 
 will hazard the assertion," said the honorable Fisher 
 Ames, " that no man ever did, nor ever will, become 
 truly eloquent without being a constant reader of the 
 Bible, and an admirer of the purity and sublimity of 
 its language." 
 
 Secondly, the origin of the Bible is such, as ren 
 ders it worthy of peculiar regard. It has a heavenly 
 origin. The Lord of Heaven and Earth is its author. 
 And when He makes a direct communication to our 
 race, surely we cannot but suppose that such commu 
 nication is vastly more important, than the most valu 
 able of human productions. Does not this considera 
 tion alone, evince its great superiority over other books, 
 and its peculiar claims to our serious attention and con 
 stant perusal ? 
 
 But, thirdly, the importance of the truths it reveals 
 and the duties it inculcates commends it to our special 
 notice and veneration. It informs us of the extreme 
 sinfulness of our natures, and depravity of our hearts ; 
 it tells us that Christ, the only begotten and dearly 
 beloved son of God, came into our world and suffered 
 and died for us suffered and died to redeem us from 
 the thraldom of sin ; it declares that, if we would es 
 cape a world of endless darkness and despair, and make 
 ourselves eternally happy, we must believe in the Lord 
 Jesus Christ ; it tells us, that the present is a life of 
 
102 COMPOSITIONS OF 
 
 toil and care and anxiety, that no enduring happiness 
 there is, save that which flows perennial from the throne 
 of God. It offers us Heaven and entreats us to accept 
 it without money and without price. It presents to our 
 view the most perfect examples of human wisdom, jus 
 tice and piety the world ever witnessed, and directs us, 
 as far as we are able, to imitate them. It is indeed an 
 exact rule of duty in all circumstances and conditions in 
 life. What other book 1 reals of subjects so momen 
 tous of truths so important ? 
 
 Finally, its singular adaptation to the wants and ne 
 cessities of men demonstrates its inestimable value. 
 There are no classes of men, no individual persons, to 
 whom it may not afford needed instruction, consolation 
 and comfort. To it the hungry soul may come, and 
 feast upon the bread of life. To it the thirsty soul may 
 come, and drink from streams that never fail. Hither 
 the naked sufferer may resort and clothe himself with 
 the unspotted robes of Christ s righteousness. To the 
 Bible, the prisoner, too, may come, and release himself 
 from the bondage of sin and death. To it the weary 
 sojourner may repair, and find rest unto his soul ; ob 
 tain that " peace and joy, which the world can neither 
 give, nor take away." And to it the afflicted and the 
 sorrowful may come, and find it indeed a " sovereign 
 balm for every wound, a cordial for their fears." 
 
 Surely such a volume cannot receive too great a por 
 tion of our respect and confidence. How infinitely far 
 below it, in point of excellence and value, stand the 
 most elaborate productions of human genius. With 
 
EMILY M. BARRETT. 103 
 
 what singular propriety did the Scottish Bard exclaim 
 in relation to the Bible, 
 
 " Most wond rous book ! bright candle of the Lord ! 
 
 Star of eternity ! The only star 
 
 By which the bark of man can navigate 
 
 The sea of life and gain the coast of bliss 
 
 Securely ! Only star which beams on Time 
 
 And on its dark and troubled billows, still 
 
 As generation drifting swiftly by 
 
 Succeeds to generation, throws a ray 
 
 Of heaven s own light, and to the hills of God, 
 
 The eternal hills, directs the sinner s eye." 
 
SKETCH. 
 
 ALTHOUGH more than three years have gone by 
 since the subject of this sketch passed from this stage 
 of action to that " bourne whence no traveller returns," 
 yet her memory is still fresh in the hearts of her bereav 
 ed friends ; and the hand of affection can hardly 
 forbear to trace a few of the prominent excellencies of 
 her life and character. 
 
 It is not our purpose to go into detail, and narrate the 
 many incidents of her life, fraught with peculiar interest 
 to her immediate friends, but over which the stranger s 
 eye might pass with cold indifference. For strangers, 
 however, this sketch is not prepared. It is designed for 
 those whose thoughts love to linger, and whose hearts 
 still mourn, over the untimely fate of the departed 
 Emily. 
 
 That hers was a spotless character, we by no means 
 say or think ; but in it there was so much that savors 
 not of earth. so much that we feel was destined to 
 unfold beneath more heavenly culture than is furnished 
 by the influences of time, so much that constitutes the 
 germ of a blessed futurity, that we are constrained to 
 pronounce her life one of no ordinary interest. 
 
BRIEF SKETCH, &C. 105 
 
 Such was the sweetness of her disposition and tem 
 per, that her own family can recall no instance in 
 which her gentle spirit seemed ruffled, or her mind un 
 happily excited. Not that she was possessed of a morbid 
 sensibility or a stoical temperament. Far otherwise ; 
 but, so thoroughly were her feelings under the control 
 of judgment and principle, that rarely, in an unguarded 
 moment, did she manifest aught unlovely or displeas 
 ing. Although in her character there was a native live 
 liness and playfulness of manner, which animated and 
 threw a charm over her conversation, yet, so subdued 
 and chastened by education and religion were her 
 natural propensities, that in levity, or any undue 
 elevation of spirits, she never allowed herself to in 
 dulge. 
 
 \Vith a sensibility peculiarly delicate, she almost 
 shrunk from coming in contact with the discordant voi 
 ces of the jarring world, and dreaded its rude gaze and 
 heartless offerings. Had she followed the promptings 
 of her own natural inclinations, she would have retired 
 far from scenes of noisy strife, and found her happiness 
 in contributing to the comfort of her friends, in compan 
 ionship with nature, and communion with nature s 
 God. Of her it might truly be said, she was " never 
 less alone than when alone." But her benevolence was 
 not of a passive nor inactive kind. It was her delight 
 to make all happy within the circle of her influ 
 ence. Yea more she would exert herself to seek out 
 opportunities to relieve the sorrows, and mitigate the 
 woes of the afflicted and distressed. She believed it 
 10 
 
106 BRIEF SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER 
 
 wicked to bury one s talent in the earth, or acquire not 
 to impart again. She felt that it was moie blessed to 
 give than to receive ; and, actuated by a principle of 
 love and benevolence heaven-born, she cheerfully sacri 
 ficed personal ease and private comfort, to what duty 
 required of her. It was emphatically true of her, that 
 " she opened her mouth with wisdom, and on her 
 tongue was the law of kindness." 
 
 She was remarkable for conscientiousness; for purity 
 of motive, and exemplary walk and conversation. Not 
 withstanding her prospects in life were flattering, and 
 her pecuniary circumstances easy and ample, she was 
 not elated with pride and self-importance, but seemed 
 eminently to exemplify the injunction of the Apostle. 
 " let the adorning be of a meek and quiet spirit, which, 
 in the sight of God, is of great price." She seemed, in 
 a pre-eminent degree, uninfluenced by any love of 
 display. Simplicity of manners, and of apparel, char 
 acterized her whole appearance. 
 
 In January previous to her death, her dear and only 
 brother returned from college in a very delicate state of 
 health. The marks of pulmonary consumption could 
 not be mistaken. His disease baffled the skill of phy 
 sicians, and rendered the most unremittcd attentions of 
 friends unavailing. After languishing fifteen weeks, 
 during which the conflicting emotions of hope and fear 
 alternately animated and depressed the hearts of the 
 family, his spirit took its upward flight. 
 
 To this brother Emily Maria was very ardently 
 attached. Being but about two years younger, she 
 
OF EMILY M. BARRETT. 10? 
 
 had been his companion from her earliest years. She 
 had travelled with him, and studied with him : 
 and, during a part of his college course, had attended 
 the Young Ladies Institute in the same place. Of 
 course she felt his loss most sensibly. But, although it 
 was feared by her parents, an event so afflictive would 
 almost overpower her tender feelings, and threaten her 
 own d3parture, yet, so peaceful and calm was his exit, 
 so tranquil and resigned his spirit, that she seemed to 
 submit to the stroke without a murmur. But she then 
 felt, as never before, how inadequate are the scenes of 
 earth to afford consolation to the bereaved heart ; and, 
 in view of all earthly attractions, she felt sincerely 
 to say 
 
 They died with thee, my brother, 
 Thy last sigh dissolved the charm. 
 
 But, alas ! her course below was soon to be termina 
 ted. In seven weeks from the day of her brother s 
 death, her remains were deposited by his side in the 
 church-yard of New-Ipswich. 
 
 O, how precarious is human life ! In two short 
 weeks, removed from a state of health to the dark 
 chambers of the grave ! How overwhelming for the 
 afflicted family ! Forcibly were they reminded of the 
 words of the poet, 
 
 " Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
 They love a train ; they tread each other s heel ; 
 Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 
 The grief that started from our lids for him." 
 
108 BRIEF SKETCH, &C. 
 
 Her disorder, typhus fever, which terminated in an 
 affection of the brain, deprived her of her reason for 
 some days before her death. This was very trying for 
 tier friends; yet although from her dying lips, they had 
 not the assurances that her soul was in peace, they 
 could not but feel that their loss was her unspeakable 
 gain. 
 
 For from the promise of her youth, 
 
 Her purity and worth, 
 May they not hope her spirit s home 
 
 Is far above the earth ? 
 
 Thus was one, at the early age of eighteen, in life s 
 bright morning, called to close her eyes forever upon 
 the scenes of time, and enter upon the realities of anoth 
 er state of existence. 
 
 Her parents, thus doubly afflicted and doubly bereav 
 ed, again received proofs of love and sympathy from 
 friends far and near, which served to soothe their 
 bleeding hearts. But within their breasts there must 
 still exist an aching void, which this world can never 
 fill a wound which none can heal but that Heavenly 
 Friend, who is better than father or mother, brother or 
 sister, son or daughter. 
 
LINES, 
 
 Written on the death of Miss Emily Maria Barrett, aged 
 IS, who died June llth, 1833, eldest daughter of 
 Joseph Barrett, Esq. By R. A. Coffin, Principal of 
 New-Ipswich Academy. 
 
 YES, she is gone ! The tolling bell has rung 
 
 Over these hills and vales its solemn peal, 
 
 To tell that she is gone. With what a tongue 
 
 Death speaks to all, who have the power to feel 
 
 When youth and loveliness like hers descend 
 
 To that last home, where dust with dust must blend. 
 
 O, what is life ! A meteoric gleam 
 Swift flitting over earth s beclouded sky ! 
 A transient bubble, floating down the stream 
 That hastens onward to eternity ; 
 A flower that brightens in the morning sun, 
 And fades away, ere half the day is done. 
 
 O ye, who dream of lasting joy below, 
 Come and behold the triumphs of the tomb ! 
 Look on that form. But a few days ago 
 Twas bright in health, and clothed in beauty s bloom. 
 Now faded is that cheek, and dim that eye : 
 O, how can ye forget that ye are born to die ! 
 10* 
 
110 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH 
 
 Voiceless is now that tongue, which lately spoke 
 In tones of melody its every word. 
 The hand of death the golden bowl has broke, 
 And loosed, forever loosed, the silver cord. 
 Come, look once more upon her ere she goes 
 To the low tomb, to take her last repose. 
 
 Come, ye who loved her, take your last farewell : 
 
 And who, that ever knew her, loved her not ? 
 
 Ah ! vain indeed the attempt for me to tell, 
 
 How, sadly gathering round each well-known spot, 
 
 That memory hath blended with her name, 
 
 A thousand tender thoughts affection s tribute claim. 
 
 Tis done ! The last farewell is spoken mnv, 
 The last prayer has been uttered o er her clay. 
 Now hear her on, with solemn steps, and slow, 
 To her last resting place, and gently lay 
 Her down, that she may rest her peaceful head, 
 Where her departed brother s form is laid. 
 
 Parents and sisters ! Yet my latest strain 
 Your sorrows claim. But words, alas, are poor ! 
 May He, who never wounds the heart in vain, 
 Vouchsafe his grace, that so ye may endure, 
 With a submissive, though a mourning heart, 
 The woes, in which he bids you share so sad a part 1 
 
 Yet ye will not forbid me to unite 
 
 My griefs with yours. For those whom ye lament 
 
 Were dear to me ; and oft before my sight 
 
 Does memory picture hours of gladness spent 
 
 In pleasing intercourse amid the halls, 
 
 Where science oft her friends together calls. 
 
OF EMILY M. BARRETT. Ill 
 
 Yes, there are those who mourn with you. Though earth 
 
 Has many sons with hearts that seldom feel, 
 
 Who hurry on with wild and reckless mirth, 
 
 Nor heed that death had placed his icy seal 
 
 Upon the brow of those who were so dear, 
 
 Yet there are those, who shed the sympathising tear. 
 
 This is a world of sorrow. Thickly strown 
 Are all the paths of life with varied woes. 
 Death often loves to number as his own 
 The lovely ones on whom our hearts repose : 
 But seldom does his solemn summons come 
 Twice in so brief a space to one domestic home. 
 
 Tis right that ye should weep : the Saviour shed 
 
 The tear of heartfelt sorrow o er the tomb, 
 
 Where the beloved Lazarus was laid ; 
 
 Nor will he frown, when his disciples come 
 
 To weep o er the remains of those they loved, 
 
 Though from the shores of time to happier realms removed. 
 
 True, they are lost to earth, but not to heaven, 
 As we would fondly hope. How blest the thought, 
 That when life s few remaining cords are riven, 
 Ye then may meet where sorrow cometh not ! 
 Then shall eternity s pure light reveal 
 The mysteries, which the shades of time conceal. 
 
INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 Tlit following is engraved on the tombstone of Joseph 
 A. Barrett. 
 
 Endowed with genius, such as God has given 
 
 To few of all the sons of men beside, 
 While yet his morning sun was bright in heaven, 
 
 Long ere it reached its noonday height, he died. 
 Yet calmly to the stroke of death he bowed, 
 
 Resigned his spirit to his Father s hand 
 In filial trust, and not a darkening cloud 
 
 Shrouded his pathway to the spirit land. 
 
 " Non annis, sed virtutibus, vita cestimanda est." 
 
 Upon the tombstone of Emily M. Barrett. 
 
 Stranger, this spot is sacred. There lie here 
 
 The dear remains of one, who never gave 
 To those who knew her cause to shed a tear, 
 
 Save when they wept around her early grave. 
 If talents, youth, or virtue could reclaim 
 
 From death s domain one, whom they all adorned, 
 Then this cold marble would not bear the name 
 
 Of Emily, the lovely and the mourned. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 [The following letters, among numerous others of a similar 
 character, were received by the parents of the lamented youths 
 whose lives have been briefly sketched in the foregoing pages. We 
 take the liberty to insert them, presuming the writers would have 
 no objection. The first is from a clergyman in a neighboring town, 
 and former Preceptor at New-Ipswich Academy the other from 
 Professor Andrews, former Principal of the Young Ladies Insti 
 tute at New-Haven.l 
 
 May 23, 1833. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 IT was my intention, when at New-Ipswich, to call at 
 your house, and express to yourself and family the deep 
 sprnpathy I feel, in respect to the recent death of your son ; 
 but circumstances rendered it inconvenient : and the duty 
 which was then necessarily left, I wish now to perform. I 
 had not the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with 
 your son, still I was acquainted with many parts of his 
 short life, and had formed the highest ideas of his future 
 usefulness and distinction. Mr. Thompson, his instructor 
 at Amherst Academy (whose bosom, I have no doubt, will 
 be pierced with many sorrows, when he hears of the early 
 
116 APPENDIX. 
 
 departure of a talented and favorite pupil) informed me, 
 that your son was decidedly the first scholar in that large 
 and prosperous school. And now again, I hear that he 
 ranked above all his class at Yale College. 
 
 Nor was I unacquainted with his moral history. In 
 those awfully solemn and interesting scenes which trans 
 pired in New Ipswich, in the revival of 1831, when his 
 relations to God were made a matter of deep thought and 
 solemn inquiry by your son, I recollect often to have in 
 quired anxiously whether the announcement had not been 
 made that he considered himself among the followers of 
 the Lord Jesus ; although I might have expected from the 
 known quality of his mind from that close scrutiny with 
 which he was accustomed to examine every thing from 
 that sobriety and genuine modesty which retires from the 
 rude gaze of the world, (and which your son possessed to 
 the admiration of those who are capable of appreciating 
 such qualities) I say, from these things, one might expect 
 that such an announcement, if made at all, would be made 
 tremblingly. I felt this peculiar interest in him at that 
 time, not because I supposed his soul more valuable than 
 others in itself considered, but, particularly, for the bear 
 ing I thought it would have upon his character and influ 
 ence in respect to the church of Christ. Although he did 
 not, at that time, profess to hope in the mercy of God, still 
 1 always had strong expectations that ultimately his tal 
 ents would be engaged in the Redeemer s cause. And his 
 minister informed me that he thought him to give good 
 evidence of being a Christian, in his last sickness. Your 
 sorrows must, indeed, be greatly mitigated by the hope 
 that he has exchanged this for a brighter world. 
 
 Here I wish to touch upon a topic connected with an er- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 117 
 
 ror of your son. I mean physical education, or that atten 
 tion to diet, exercise, &c. which serves to keep the body in 
 health. I speak of this because I think the church ought 
 to be alarmed when she thinks of the disastrous effects 
 which follow inattention to physical education when she 
 sees hecatombs of her choicest sons sacrificed as victims 
 upon this altar. Precisely the young men who are calcu 
 lated to do the most good, and to exercise the most power 
 ful influence in the world, are, many of them at least, cut 
 down before their education is completed ; or their consti 
 tutions are so broken down, that they are able to effect 
 comparatively little while they live. Students, youthful, 
 inexperienced and ardent, and in the possession of health 
 feel, I know, that there is no danger, and, disregarding the 
 laws of life, rush on in the dangerous career, attain their 
 object perhaps, and attain it but to die. 
 
 I hope, Sir, that your attention, as one of the guardians 
 of a literary institution, will be turned to this subject, and 
 that physical education may receive that share of public 
 interest to which its great importance justly entitles it. 
 How happy would it have been for your son, had there 
 been some faithful friend near him, who would have coun 
 selled and warned him upon this subject with paternal 
 affection. Such an influence may you exercise upon 
 some talented and ardent young man who is making the 
 same mistake. 
 
 But all regrets and sorrows are unavailing. 
 
 The eye that would have beamed with compassion for a lost 
 world, has closed forever. The tongue, that we trusted 
 would have thrilled upon mortal ears with the accents of 
 mercy, is palsied in death. And it is well. If we improve 
 by it are made better if our hold upon the world is 
 11 
 
118 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 loosened by it our affection weaned from it, and placed 
 on heaven if increased energy should be given to our 
 arm, in efforts to benefit a lost world, it is well. The few 
 days of our existence will soon be past, and then Christian 
 friends will be united with Christian friends in a better 
 and brighter world. 
 
 With much respect, 
 
 Yours truly r 
 
 J. D. CROSBY. 
 
 Boston, Aug. 22, 1833. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I HAVE read with painful interest a copy of Mr. Wal 
 ker s sermon, which you were so good as to send me, and 
 also the beautiful hymn written by your son, and the lines 
 on the death of my dear pupil, written by Mr. Coffin. 
 
 In acknowledging the receipt of these, I gladly avail 
 myself of the opportunity to express to you, to Mrs. Bar 
 rett, and to your daughter whom I had recently the 
 pleasure of seeing in Boston, my deep sympathy in your 
 affliction. 
 
 Consolation under such a bereavement, I am well aware, 
 must come from a higher source, and this, I cannot doubt, 
 you already possess ; but, even when enjoying the highest 
 sources of consolation, the heart may be cheered by the 
 sympathy of our friends. 
 
 One of the severest trials, to which the faith of the peo- 
 pJe of God is ever subjected, is doubtless the loss of dear 
 friends, of whose final happiness they perceive no solid 
 ground of hope. To say, under such circumstances, " thy 
 
APPENDIX. 119 
 
 will be done," with full acquiescence in his government, 
 is indeed difficult for human nature ; but it is a trial of 
 faith, to which I rejoice that you, my friends, have not been 
 called. I rejoice with you, that your children, who were so 
 lovely in their lives, and who in their deaths were scarcely 
 divided, have not left us to grieve as those who are without 
 hope. It affords me great pleasure to be able to add my 
 testimony to that of their other friends, to the very uncommon 
 excellence and loveliness of your dear departed children. 
 It was indeed but a few months during which I had the 
 privilege of knowing them, but it was sufficient to ena 
 ble me to form a decided opinion of their uncommon 
 talents and virtues. Their diligence in the prosecution 
 of their studies, their uniform mildness and cheerful 
 ness, their mutual affection, and their truly conscien 
 tious lives, will long remain impressed upon the minds 
 of those who knew them. 
 
 That God may cause your severest afflictions to become 
 your choicest blessings is the wish and prayer of 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 E. A. ANDREWS,