Just tributes of respect! And to the living useful. But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they? How vain! how unavailing! Approach, and behold--while I lift from his sepulchre its covering. Ye admirers of his neatness, ye emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale! how silent! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinated throng weep--and melt--and tremble at his eloquence!--Amazing change. A shroud! a coffin! a narrow subterraneous cabin! This is all that now remains of Hamilton! And is this all that remains of him?--During a life so transitory, what lasting monument then can our fondest hopes erect? My brethren! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, notating immortal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten? Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already told you, from his death-bed, and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well-known eloquence, the solemn admonition. "Mortals! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors--Cultivate the virtues I have recommended--Choose the Saviour I have chosen--Live disinterestedly--Live for immortality; and would you rescue anything from final dissolution, lay it up in God." Dr. Nott. CXXXVII. INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. FLOOD.