There is only one other class of persons I can think of, in connexion with the subject of this Essay—those who are always in want of money from the want of spirit to make use of it. Such persons are perhaps more to be pitied than all the rest. They live in want, in the midst of plenty—dare not touch what belongs to them, are afraid to say that their soul is their own, have their wealth locked up from them by fear and meanness as effectually as by bolts and bars, scarcely allow themselves a coat to their backs or a morsel to eat, are in dread of coming to the parish all their lives, and are not sorry when they die, to think that they shall no longer be an expense to themselves—according to the old epigram: ‘Here lies Father Clarges, Who died to save charges!’ ON THE FEELING OF IMMORTALITY IN YOUTH _The Monthly Magazine._] [_March, 1827._ ‘Life is a pure flame, and we live by an invisible sun within us.’ —SIR THOMAS BROWN. No young man believes he shall ever die. It was a saying of my brother’s, and a fine one. There is a feeling of Eternity in youth, which makes us amends for every thing. To be young is to be as one of the Immortal Gods. One half of time indeed is flown—the other half remains in store for us with all its countless treasures; for there is no line drawn, and we see no limit to our hopes and wishes. We make the coming age our own.—— ‘The vast, the unbounded prospect lies before us.’ Death, old age, are words without a meaning, that pass by us like the idle air which we regard not. Others may have undergone, or may still be liable to them—we ‘bear a charmed life,’ which laughs to scorn all such sickly fancies. As in setting out on a delightful journey, we strain our eager gaze forward—— ‘Bidding the lovely scenes at distance hail,’—