ardour, and to have suffered no interruption during the short period in which it was allowed to be indulged; for he was cut off in the flower of his days, and in the opening prospect of wealth, reputation, and happiness.

A few extracts from the letters of Mr. Hobart can scarcely fail to interest the reader, since they will serve to show the deep and tender sensibility of that heart in youth, which, notwithstanding the chilling effects of time, always continued to beat with a generous warmth. His notions of friendship were undoubtedly enthusiastic and extravagant, but it will be recollected that they were formed at the season when the imagination and passions are at their height, and the mind labours for terms which may suitably express the strong feelings of the heart.

Dear friends he considers ought to have but one heart; their feelings, their wishes, their pleasures, their happiness should be the same; their inmost thoughts, their most retired actions, their favourite plans should be laid open; nothing which passes in the bosom of one, should be concealed from the other; there should be the most unreserved and unbounded confidence in each other. "These are the only foundations of true and perfect friendship. With what delight can I dwell on ours! Yes, my dearest friend, I look back to former scenes; I recollect the happiness we enjoyed, the affection which united our engagements, our amusements, our desires, our hearts; how often we have pursued our studies together; how often we met in each other's rooms; how often, on a summer's evening, we have walked together, and shared the pleasure

of a beautiful prospect. ***. The happy hours of collegiate study, void of anxiety and care, are past, and can never again be realized." But "though we are separated in person, no circumstance can disunite our hearts. ***. There are, indeed, but few kindred souls; I have found but two like mine; on these my affections are fixed; and I hope my love for them is not incompatible with that general benevolence which, as a Christian, I ought to feel for all mankind."

Mr. Skinner left College before him. It is surprising with what acuteness he felt the pangs of separation from his friend; it was so obvious and distressing, that it checked all raillery among his remaining companions, and excited only their sympathy and kindness. One of the letters, which was written soon after on this subject, is in some parts rendered almost illegible by the tears which had dropped upon it. He never alluded to the separation but with tenderness and regret. He formed more than one affectionate, but visionary plan, for renewing their intimacy, by engaging together in similar pursuits. These feelings were revived in all their force, when he came back, in the following year, to pursue his theological studies at Princeton. He revisited the place of his education, where he had passed so many delightful hours, with mingled emotions of joy and regret. He saw many persons who were dear to him, but not his chosen and familiar friend. He entered his room-he entered his study the recollections of former happiness rushed upon his mind, and sunk it in dejection and gloom. But when he was thus indulging in un

availing regrets on the checks and disappointments to which his romantic passion was subjected, he would often suddenly pass to the contemplation of that better order of things which, like its blessed Author, is "without variableness or shadow of turning." He endeavoured also to direct the thoughts of his friend to that future state of existence, where all their faculties and affections would be exalted, where their holy nature would be rendered susceptible of the highest enjoyment, and where, without any alloy, they would indulge, throughout eternity, in the most pure, perfect, and beatified friendship.

One of his earliest letters to his friend was written on the first appearance of the yellow fever in Philadelphia, which was the introduction of a calamity among us that excited the deepest sympathy and concern throughout the country at the time; and the repeated visitation of which to other cities afterwards, is still vividly remembered by thousands, and associated with the most direful images of human suffering and distress.

"Princeton, August 30th, 1793. "I write a third time from this place, and am uncertain how long I shall remain here. I had intended to go to Philadelphia to-morrow, but I received a letter from my mother this morning, which informed me that Dr. Rush thought it would be imprudent for me to come, in the present unhealthy state of the city. The fever still rages there, and the present exceedingly hot weather will rather increase its ravages. To such an alarming stage has the disorder advanced, that the dead are

buried privately, for fear of distressing and terrifying the citizens by the number of funerals presented to their view Terror and anxiety are, I hear, depicted on the countenances of all, and every preventive which the skill of physicians can suggest, is used without staying its progress. What a necessity there is for every person to be prepared to exchange a temporal for an eternal state! The Scriptures inform us, that the pleasures of the world sink into nothing, when compared with the happiness that arises from a sense of pardoned guilt, the enjoyment of the favour of God, and from the prospect of eternal happiness in his presence. ***. Let us bless God for his mercy in not cutting us off in our course of sin, but allowing us time for repentance.* ... Let us endeavour to secure an interest in that Saviour who shed his blood to wash away our sins... O my dear boy, let us not neglect to implore God to grant us his Holy Spirit to withdraw our affections from the vanities of this world, and place them on himself, the inexhaustible source of excellence and perfection.

"The heart of my dearest Skinner is, I know, full of anxiety for the welfare of my relations. They were all, when I last heard, in as good health as usual, and all out of town, except my mother and her family. I feel very much alarmed on her account, and will entreat her to leave the city. She seems concerned for every body but herself, not considering how very dear her life is to her family. I hope, however, that Providence, who has hitherto

Mr. Skinner afterwards fell a victim to this very pestilence.

preserved her in many trying afflictions, will still continue to make her his care."

Mr. Skinner had determined to pursue the study of the law under the direction of his father, who practised at the New-York bar, but resided at Jamaica, on Long-Island. This neat and peaceful village is situated on the borders of an extensive plain: it has a degree of rural beauty from the high cultivation of the country around it, and is enlivened by the prospect of woodlands on a range of hills in its immediate neighbourhood. Mr. Hobart had once visited this place, and from the pleasure which he enjoyed there in his rambles with his friend, his imagination had invested it with unreal charms. In the letters which he wrote to Skinner, he often alludes to them, and enlarges on the opportunities of this quiet retreat for the improvement of his mind. "It rejoices me to think that you have every advantage for study which retirement can afford. ***. You can pursue" it with "more vigour, and acquire habits of seriousness and reflection which may prove of inestimable benefit. * * *. Every thing around you naturally leads to reflection. To a mind like yours, the works of nature have peculiar charms; and in the contemplation of them, peace, serenity, and contentment unite to make you happy. ***. *. Retired from the noise and interruption of a city life, beyond the reach of its fascinating pleasures, and its temptations to swerve from the line of duty, you, my dearest friend, have a very favourable opportunity for mental and moral improvement. My ardent prayers are offered up, that you may advance