During the short period of his illness, he economized his time in arranging, with the utmost serenity, those few concerns which required his attention, and anticipated his approaching dissolution with every demonstration of that equanimity, for which his life was so uniformly and singularly conspicuous.

The deep and wide-spreading grief, occasioned by this melancholy event, assembled a great concourse of people, for the purpose of paying the last tribute of respect to the first of Americans. On Wednesday, the 18th of December, attended by military honours and the ceremonies of religion, his body was deposited in the family vault at Mount Vernon

So short was his illness, that, at the seat of government, a the intelligence of his death preceded that of his indisposition. It was first communicated by a passenger in the stage to an acquaintance whom he met in the street, and the report quickly reached the house of representatives, which was then in session. The utmost dismay and affliction were displayed for a few minutes, after which a mem ber stated in his place the melancholy information which had been received. This information, he said, was not certain, but there was too much reason to believe it true.

"After receiving intelligence," he added, "of a national calamity so heavy and afflicting, the house of representatives can be but ill fitted for public business." He therefore moved an adjournment. Both houses adjourned until the next day.

On the succeeding day, as soon as the orders were read, the same member addressed the chair, and afterwards offered the following resolutions :"

“Resolved, that this house will wait upon the presidentin condolence of this mournful event.

"Resolved, that the speaker's chair be shrouded with black, and that the members and officers of the house wear black during the session.

Resolved, that a committee, in conjunction with ore from the senate, be appointed to consider on the most suit

* These resolutions were prepared by General Lee, and offered by John Marshall, the future biographer of Washington. The last senti mert in them has been often quoted and admired.-ED.

able manner of paying honour to the memory of the Man first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his fellow-citizens "

The Lessons of Death.-NORTON.

WHEN such men are taken from us, we are made to feel the instability of life, and the insecurity of the tenure by which we hold its dearest blessings. But this feeling will be of little value, if it do not lead us to look beyond this world, and if it be not thus connected with a strong sense of the proper business of life,-to prepare ourselves for happiness in that world, where there shall be no change but from glory to glory. It will be in vain for us to contemplate such a character as we have been regarding, if we do not feel that its foundation was in that religion, which teaches every one of us to regard himself as created by God, to be an image of his own eternity. It will be in vain for us to stand by the open grave of departed worth, if no earthly passion grows cool, and no holy purpose gains strength.

We are liable, in this world, to continual delusion; to a most extravagant over-estimate of the value of its objects. With respect to many of our cares and pursuits, the sentiment expressed in the words of David must have borne with all its truth and force upon the mind of every considerate man in some moments, at least, of serious reflection: Surely every one walketh in a vain show; surely they are disquieted in vain. The events of the next month, or the next year, often assume in our eyes a most disproportionate importance, and almost exclude from our view all the other infinite variety of concerns and changes which are to follow in the course of an immortal existence. The whole happiness of our being seems sometimes to be at stake upon the success of a plan, which, when we have grown but a little older, we may regard with indifference. These are subjects on which reason too commonly speaks to us in vain. But there is one lesson, which God sometimes gives us, that brings the truth home to our hearts

There is an admonition, which addresses itself directly to our feelings, and before which they bow in humility and tears. We can hardly watch the gradual decay of a man eminent for virtue and talents, and hear him uttering, with a voice that will soon be heard no more, the last expressions of piety and holy hope, without feeling that the delusions of life are losing their power over our minds. Its true purposes begin to appear to us in their proper distinctness." We are accompanying one, who is about to take his leave of present objects; to whom the things of this life, merely, are no longer of any interest or value. The eye, which is still turned to us in kindness, will, in a few days, be closed forever. The hand, by which ours is still pressed, will be motionless. The affections, which are still warm and vivid -they will not perish; but we shall know nothing of their exercise. We shall be cut off from all expressions and return of sympathy. He whom we love is taking leave of us for an undefined period of absence. We are placed with him on the verge between this world and the eternity into which he is entering; we look before us, and the objects of the latter rise to view, in all their vast and solemn magnificence.

There is, I well know, an anguish which may preclude this calmness of reflection and hope. Our resolution may be prostrated to the earth; for he, on whom we are accustomed to rely for strength and support, has been taken away. We return to the world, and there is bitterness in all it presents us; for every thing bears impressed upon it a remembrance of what we have lost. It has one, and but one, miserable consolation to offer :

"That anguish will be wearied down, I know.

What pang is permanent with man? From th' highest,

As from the vilest thing of every day,

He learns to wean himself. For the strong hours
Conquer him."

It is a consolation, which, offered in this naked and offensive form, we instinctively reject. Our recollections and our sorrows, blended as they are together, are far too dear to be parted with upon such terms. But God giveth not as the world giveth. There is a peace which comes from him, and brings healing to the heart. His religion would

not have us forget, but cherish, our affections fo the te for it makes known to us, that these affections sal be in mortal. It gradually takes away the bitterness four re collections, and changes them into glorious hopes; for teaches us to regard the friend, who is with us no longer, not as one whom we have lost on earth, but as one whom we shall meet, as an angel, in heaven.

Character of Chief Justice Marshall.—WIRT.

THE chief justice of the United States is in his person tall, meager, emaciated; his muscles relaxed, and his joints so loosely connected, as not only to disqualify him, apparently, for any vigorous exertions of body, but to destroy every thing like elegance and harmony in his air and movements. Indeed, in his whole appearance and demeanour, dress, attitudes, and gesture-sitting, standing, or walking, he is as far removed from the idolized graces of Lord Chesterfield, as any other gentleman on earth. To continue the portrait: his head and face are small in proportion to his height; his complexion swarthy; the mus cles of his face, being relaxed. give him the appearance of a man of fifty years of age, nor can he be much younger. His countenance has a faithful expression of great goodhumour and hilarity; while his black eyes-that unerring index-possess an irradiating spirit, which proclaims the imperial powers of the mind that sits enthroned within.

This extraordinary man, without the aid of fancy, without the advantages of person, voice, attitude, gesture, or any of the ornaments of an orator, deserves to be considered as one of the most eloquent men in the world; if eloquence may be said to consist in the power of seizing the attention with irresistible force, and never permitting it to elude the grasp until the hearer has received the conviction which the speaker intends.

As to his person, it has already been described. His voice is dry and hard; his attitude, in his most effective orations, was often extremely awkward, as it was not unusual for him to stand with his left foot in advance; while all his

gesture proceeded from his right arm, and consisted merely in a vehement, perpendicular swing of it, from about the elevation of his head to the bar, behind which he was accustomed to stand.

As to Fancy, if she hold a seat in his mind at all, which I very much doubt, his gigantic Genius tramples with disdain on all her flower-decked plats and blooming parterres. How, then, you will ask, with a look of incredulous curiosity, how is it possible that such a man can hold the attention of an audience enchained through a speech of even ordinary length? I will tell you.

He possesses one original, and almost supernatural facul-, ty,—the faculty of developing a subject by a single glance of his mind, and detecting at once the very point on which every controversy depends. No matter what the question; though ten times more knotty than "the gnarled oak," the lightning of heaven is not more rapid nor more resistless than his astonishing penetration. Nor does the exercise of it seem to cost him an effort. On the contrary, it is as easy as vision. I am persuaded that his eyes do not fly over a landscape, and take in its various objects with more promptitude and facility, than his mind embraces and analyzes the most complex subject.

Possessing while at the bar this intellectual elevation, which enabled him to look down and comprehend the whole ground at once, he determined, immediately, and without difficulty, on which side the question might be most advantageously approached and assailed. In a bad cause, his art consisted in laying his premises so remotely from the point directly in debate, or else in terms so general and specious, that the hearer, seeing no consequence which could be drawn from them, was just as willing to admit them as not; but, his premises once admitted, the demonstration, however distant, followed as certainly, as cogently. and as inevitably, as any demonstration of Euclid.

All his eloquence consists in the apparently deep selfconviction and emphatic earnestness of his manner; the correspondent simplicity and energy of his style; the close and logical connexion of his thoughts; and the easy gradations by which he opens his lights on the attentive minds of his hearers.