And now, my friends, in bidding you farewell, permit me freely, but respectfully, to address my few concluding remarks still more personally to yourselves. _Ye parents_, who are conscious of faults that obstruct the education of your own offspring and are anxious to mend them—_ye_ who still have children to be instructed, and cherish that deep solicitude for their continual improvement in knowledge and virtue, which it is your most sacred duty to cherish—_ye teachers_, who justly estimate the nature and extent of the momentous trusts confided to your honor, and the fatal consequences of neglecting to fulfil them—_ye young men and maidens_, who are still under pupilage—behold, I beseech you, the moral mirror which I have held up to your view. Search it again and again, and if you discern therein any similitude to your own defects, let it not be seen in vain. Oh! suffer it not to pass away “like the morning cloud or the early dew,” but set _instantly_, _earnestly_, _perseveringly_, about the vital work of extirpation, as your only hope for happiness either here or hereafter. Learn to consider—nay, _never for a moment to forget_, that nothing called education can have a shadow of pretence to be pronounced complete, but that which has for its basis the Gospel of Christ as well as its divine morality—that to act on every occasion as _this_ directs, is true wisdom—and that to gain the power of doing so, you must cherish in your hearts, through all the vicissitudes of life, the same heavenly dispositions and sentiments which the pious Cowper has so feelingly expressed in the following admirable lines. _Thou_ art the source and centre of all minds, Their _only_ point of rest, _Eternal Word!_ From _thee_ departing they are lost, and rove At random, without honor, hope, or peace. From _thee_ is all that soothes the life of man, His high endeavor and his glad success, His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. But oh! thou bounteous giver of all good, _Thou_ art of _all_ thy gifts—thyself the crown. Give what thou canst, _without thee_ we are poor, And _with thee_ rich, take what thou wilt away. THE RAINBOW. “The Rainbow,” by Campbell, “Triumphal Arch,” &c. is indeed a glorious piece, and worthy at once of the subject and the poet. Nor does it derogate much from his genius, though it does a little perhaps from his honesty, that he has borrowed (without acknowledgment) two or three of the finest thoughts and phrases in it from an older bard, a certain Henry Vaughan, who flourished about two centuries ago, and whose poems, says Montgomery, “amidst much harshness and obscurity, show gleams of rare excellence.” Thus these lines of Vaughan,