To quench a flame should we engage, And fuel add, behold the rage! Now fiercer still the flame ascends, And fear with consternation blends. Man kills his neighbor. Why? Because His passions rise against the laws, Which God hath written on his soul, Unmanned the man, and made a fool. To cure the evil, now the law, With tiger rage and open jaw, Cries out for blood, for blood it cries, Seizes the culprit, and he dies. Two men are dead in room of one; And now the work is but begun: The virus spreads, and everywhere The deadly taint infects the air. And murder now becomes more rife; Lighter esteemed is human life And he who could not just before, Now coolly looks on human gore. Revenge is wrong; cannot subdue The vile affections, but renew Their actions to a flame more dire, To rage like a consuming fire. When will our legislators learn, That blessed, heavenly truth discern,-- When will it well be understood, That evil is o'ercome with good?" Mr. Ballou always had a purpose in view when he wrote, whether prose or poetry, and to this end, more than to the musical cadence of the verse, he exerted his ability at composition, and always successfully. The subject of this biography was far from being loquacious, and seldom talked without some important and definite purpose in view. Yet, though he might be said to be somewhat reserved in speech, he was by no means secluded or abstracted in his habits, but, on the contrary, generally evinced the liveliest interest in the conversation of those about him. He was not one to break in upon the conversation of others, and if his opinion was given at all, it was almost always because it was solicited. There is such a thing as eloquent silence; and when we see a mind, much enriched by study and experience, offered as it were uninvited, at all times and on all occasions, we see very plainly that there is something wanting. Sidney Smith said of Macaulay, that he only wanted a few brilliant flashes of silence to make him perfect!