CORRESPONDENCE. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO A FRIEND. Portsmouth, March 16, 1809. ***I HAVE always been partial to the grand and solemn scenery of a mountainous country. Like most other persons of dull perception, I have been more affected with the sublime, than the beautiful. The roaring of a torrent has given me more pleasure than the music of birds; and I have often stopped to view the gathering of a storm, till I have been overtaken by its fury. There is nothing, I am firmly convinced, so favorable to genius, or taste, or virtue, as the contemplation of nature, either in her grand or beautiful appearances. Above all, it is favorable to piety. There is no one, deserving the name of man, who can view "the stars in their courses," without adoring their Creator. It inspires a feeling equally removed from arrogance and fear. "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers; the moon and stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him?" and yet to be assured that He is mindful of him, conveys a happiness, that the world cannot give. A few evenings ago, I took a solitary ramble out of town. The stars were more brilliant than usual; and they soon fixed my attention. I thought of the hour which awaits us all; when I should be as little interested in the business of the world, as in the most distant star that glimmered in the heavens. I thought of the friends who had gone before me, and of those, more dear, whom I should leave behind; but I blessed God for the hope of meeting them in another world. I can never believe that the eye, which has watched over us here, will ever be indifferent to our fate; or that the heart, which has once glowed with friendship, will ever lose its tenderness. The mind cannot embrace a more pleasing thought, than that our affections are ripening for eternity. Perhaps our friends are permitted to watch our conduct, to direct our feelings, to guide us to Heaven. Perhaps, when we have grasped a hand stiffened in death, that hand will soon be extended over us, to protect us from danger. I love to indulge such thoughts. They may be illusory; but they destroy many of the evils of life, without diminishing its pleasures. * Portsmouth, September, 1809. at the appear You must not be frightened, dear ance of large paper and close writing. I am accustomed to write long letters to every body; but as you have the largest share of my affections, you must even take the most of |