the subject I need not enlarge. The proceedings of our national and state legislatures already furnish ample proof that our people are tremblingly alive to its importance. We do firmly believe the time to be not far distant, when there will not be found a single citizen of these United States, who is not entitled to the appellation of a wellinformed man.

But supposing all this to be done, still only a part, and by far the least important part of our work will have been accomplished. We have increased the power of the people, but we have left it doubtful in what directon that power will be exerted. We have made it certain that a public opinion will be formed; but whether that opinion shall be healthful or destructive, is yet to be decided.

We have cut our channels, by which knowledge may be conveyed to every individual of our mighty population; it remains for us, by means of those very channels, to instil into every bosom an unshaken reverence for the principles of right.

Having gone thus far, we must go farther still; for you must be aware that the tenure by which our liberties are held can never be secure, unless moral, keep pace with intellectual cultivation. This leads us to remark, in the second place, that our other and still more imperative duty is to cultivate the moral character of our people.

FOUNDATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE.

EVERY man may be said to begin his education, or acquisition of knowledge, on the day of his birth. Certain objects, repeatedly presented to the infant, are after a time recognized and distinguished. The number of objects thus known, gradually increases, and, from the constitution of the mind, they are soon associated in the recollection, according to their resemblances, or obvious relations. Thus sweat-meats, toys, articles of dress, &c., soon form distinct classes in the memory and conception. At a later age, but still very early, the child distinguishes readily between a mineral mass, a vegetable, and an animal; and thus his mind has already noted the three great classes of natural bodies, and has acquired a certain de

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gree of acquaintance with natural history. He also soon understands the phrases, "a falling body," "the force of a moving body," and has therefore a perception of the great physical laws of gravity and inertia. Having seen sugar dissolved in water, and wax melted round the wick of a burning candle, he has learned some phenomena of chemistry. And having observed the conduct of the domestic animals, and of the persons about him, he has begun his acquaintance with physiology and the science of mind. Lastly, when he has learned to count his fingers and his sugar plums, and to judge of the fairness of the division cake between himself and his brothers, he has advanced into arithmetic and geometry. Thus within a year or two, a child of common sense has made a degree of progress in all the great departments of human science, and, in addition, has learned to name objects, and to express feelings, by the arbitrary sounds of language. Such, then, are the beginnings or foundations of knowledge, on which future years of experience, or methodical education, must rear the superstructure of the more considerable attainments, which befit the various conditions of men in a civilized community.

The most complete education, as regards the mind, can only consist of a knowledge of natural history, and of science, and a familiarity with language. As regards the body, it consists of the formation of various habits of muscular action, performance on musical instruments, drawing and painting, and other exercises of utility or amusement. By reviewing a complete table of such matters, each man may see at once what he can know, and what it may suit his particular condition to study.

ON THE PLEASURE OF ACQUIRING KNOWLEDGE.

In every period of life, the acquisition of knowledge is one of the most pleasing employments of the human mind. But in youth, there are circumstances which make it productive of higher enjoyment. It is then that every thing has the charm of novelty; that curiosity and fancy are awake; and the heart swells with the anticipations of future eminence and utility.

Even in those lower branches of instruction, which we call mere accomplishments, there is something always pleasing to the young in their acquisition. They seem to become every well educated person; they adorn, if they do not dignify humanity; and, what is far more, while they give an elegant employment to the hours of leisure and relaxation, they afford a means of contributing to the purity and innocence of domestic life.

But in the acquisition of knowledge of the higher kind, in the hours when the young gradually begin the study of the laws of nature, and of the faculties of the human mind, or of the magnificent revelations of the Gospel, there is a pleasure of a sublimer nature. The cloud, which, in their infant years, seemed to cover nature from the view, begins gradually to resolve.

The world in which they are placed, opens with all its wonders upon the eye; their powers of attention and observation seem to expand with the scene before them; and, while they see, for the first time, the immensity of the universe of God, and mark the majestic simplicity of those laws by which its operations are conducted, they feel as if they were awakened to a higher species of being, and admitted into nearer intercourse with the Author of nature.

It is this period, accordingly, more than all others, that determines our hopes or fears of the future fate of the young. To feel no joy in such pursuits; to listen carelessly to the voice which brings such magnificent instruction; to see the veil raised which conceals the counsels of the Deity, and to show no emotion at the discovery, are symptoms of a weak and torpid spirit, of a mind unworthy of the advantages it possesses, and fitted only for the humility of sensual and ignoble pleasure.

Of those, on the contrary, who distinguish themselves by the love of knowledge, who follow with ardor the career that is open to them, we are apt to form the most honorable presages. It is the character which is natural to youth, and which, therefore, promises well of their maturity. We foresee for them, at least, a life of pure and virtuous enjoyment, and we are willing to anticipate no common share of future usefulness and splendor.

In the second place, the pursuits of knowledge lead not only to happiness, but to honor. "Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left are riches and honor." It

is honorable to excel even in the most trifling species of knowledge, in those which can amuse only the passing hour. It is more honorable to excel in those different branches of science which are connected with the liberal professions of life, and which tend so much to the dignity and well being of humanity.

It is the means of raising the most obscure to esteem and attention; it opens to the just ambition of youth, some of the most distinguished and respected situations in society; and it places them there with the consoling reflection, that it is to their own industry and labor, in the providence of God, that they are alone indebted for them. But, to excel in the higher attainments of knowledge, to be distinguished in those greater pursuits which have commanded the attention and exhausted the abilities of the wise in every former age, is, perhaps, of all the distinctions of human understanding the most honorable and grateful.

When we look back upon the great men who have gone before us in every path of glory, we feel our eye turn from the career of war and ambition, and involuntarily rest upon those who have displayed the great truths of religion, who have investigated the laws of social welfare, or extended the sphere of human knowledge. These are honors, we feel, which have been gained without a crime, and which can be enjoyed without remorse. They are honors also which can never die, which can shed lustre even upon the humblest head, and to which the young of every succeeding age will look up, as their brightest incentives to the pursuit of virtuous fame.

ON THE HEAVENLY BODIES.

ONE of the greatest circumstances which fixes the attention in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies that form our system, is the surprising distances at which they are placed, and the stupendous amount of space which they occupy by their circuits. Our Earth is about ninety millions of miles from the sun; Saturn is above eight hundred more millions further off; and the next and most remote that we know, which is connected with us, the Uranus, is

twice that mighty distance. Mr. Hornsby has made the following calculations of the absolute distances of the planets from the sun in English miles:-Mercury 36,281,700; Venus 67,795,500; our Earth 93,726,900; Mars 142,818,000; Jupiter 487,472,000; Saturn 894,162,000. The Uranus is twice that of Saturn. The fact is sublime, and vast beyond the power of our words to express, or, of our ideas to conceive. This last planet of our system rolls in an oval circuit, of which seventeen hundred and eighty-eight millions of miles is the diameter; and, therefore, goes round an area of five thousand millions of miles. Our system occupies this amazing portion of space; and yet is but one small compartment of the indescribable universe. Immense as is an area of five thousand millions of miles, yet it is but a very little part of the incomprehensible whole. Above one hundred thousand stars, apparently suns like ours, shine above us; and to each of these, that analogy would lead us to assign a similar space; but of such marvellous extent and being, although visibly real from the existence of the shining orbs that testify its certainty to us, the mind, with all its efforts, can form no distinct idea.

Another consideration is astounding:-when we gaze in a clear evening, on the bright Jupiter, we are seeing an object that is four hundred and eighty-seven millions of miles from us. But when we look at the bright Orion, or the Great Bear, we are beholding substances which are ten thousand times that remoteness from us. The idea frequently overwhelms me, as I stand and view them, and think that I, a petty human being, have the faculty, and can exercise the power, of looking through millions of millions of miles of extended space, and that I am at that moment actually doing so, and that such an amazing expanse is visible to my eye, and perceptible by my conscious soul.

THE SUN.

THIS immense orb is about ninety-five millions of miles from the earth. Its diameter has been estimated at 883,246 English or common miles; its circumference, of course, is 2,774,799: and its surface contains nearly 2,