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 towards the shore, presuming that there was a valley through which the stream entered the Lake, and by which I might reach the summit of the bank. I soon affected this object, and entered the wood. I did not, however, sleep much: my imagination had become active, and I passed most of the night in weaving the web of fancy.

The adventure of the preceding evening was calculated to call forth much enthusiasm. This, I know, is a term which alarms the ear of dullness; but the indulgence of this native quality of the heart is not inconsistent with the due influence of the understanding. What is it but an admiration of those principles of mind, and those views of nature, which may be traced to that Being in whom is the perfection of every great and good attribute? Upon a vicious, or mean object it never looks but with the eye of compassion and sorrow. I may be permitted to enlarge a little upon this subject.

Enthusiasm is the reverse of mental and moral insensibility. In the home of the heart it trims the lamp of intellect, and pants after true greatness. In mind it perceives perennial existence, and in matter only the temporary and humble dwelling place of its discipline. Immortality is the holy land of its aspirations, and disinterestedness the altar of its sacrifices. In self controul it displays its power, and the obedience of the passions is the trophy of its victories. All Nature is the temple of its worship, and in the inspiration of its hopes it finds the source of its humility. During the convulsions of the physical world, it sits in the composure of faith, and in the awe of admiration. In religion it dwells with {91} humble rapture upon the Star of Bethlehem, and gratefully acknowledges the spirit of grace. In philanthropy it sees in every man a brother, and loves to do him good. In patriotism it views, in the tombs of ancestors, the sanctity of home; and