resource, the utterly incorrigible of some utility to the state of ascertaining the true nature of idiocy and insanity, and how far, in the latter, the excesses of the feelings and the aberrations of the intellect may be corrected-HOW OUR MIND IS CONSTITUTED—how much, in its operations and affections, it is animal, how much it is human-how far we are bound by the trammels of NECESSITY-how far we are free and accountable creatures and lastly, the origin and sanction of our rights and duties, as rational, moral, and religious beings: thus comprehending the whole circle of considerations, mental and corporeal, physical and metaphysical, in which man has any momentous interest or concern.

If this rational, just, and honorable step had been taken by any of our universities; if, as was confidently expected, the London college had appointed him to the chair of Anthropology, the world might still have been in the enjoyment of the useful, enlightened and invaluable services of this wisest and best of men; and, under his auspices, society might possibly have gained an advance of half a century or a century, in the general progress of improvement. But the college lost this splendid opportunity of acquiring instant and perpetual renown, and society an early accession of blessings unnecessarily deferred from the present to some future generation.

Spurzheim left Ireland with a determination to

devote the remainder of his days to the labors of this professorship, had the exertions of his friends in his favor proved successful. In the event of a disappointment, his intention was to bid adieu to England, and remain in quiet, unambitious comfort with the relatives of his late wife, in Paris. They were affectionately attached to him, particularly M. Perier, his brother-in-law-and M. Perier's residence was, in fact, his home.

He had not been long settled in his new abode, when he received pressing invitations from various scientific bodies in Boston and other cities of the United States, to cross the Atlantic, for their instruction in the true philosophy of mind. He could not resist so favorable an opportunity of doing good, and doing it to so vast an extent as seemed to be insured by such an invitation. He assented; and resolved to visit America during the summer of 1832.

He was always a sufferer from sea-sickness, even in the shortest voyages; and to encounter a long one, with such a constitutional predisposition, required some magnanimity. In the spring of 1832, some friends of mine, who were greatly attached to Spurzheim, visited him at Paris. He had, at that time, come to the determination of crossing to the United States; and my friends were remonstrating with him on his imprudence, in braving the inconveniences and hazards of such a voyage, and asked him, what

could possibly compensate him for all that he must necessarily endure? His simple and emphatic reply was, 'Shall I not see Channing?'

man.

I trust he did see that distinguished and excellent The communion of two such minds, on any occasion, must bring peculiar gratifications to bothbut coming into collision so unexpectedly, and froin such distant regions of the globe, they must have enjoyed a double portion of happiness. The first moment they met, their friendships must have been cemented for life but life affords but a frail tenure to friendship or happiness.

On the 20th of June, 1832, he sailed from Havre to New York, full of the hope of establishing his doctrines from Canada to the Floridas. 'He was to have lectured in all the towns: even the villages were preparing to invite him.' The good he would have done is incalculable. On the 17th of September, he commenced a general course of lectures in Boston. That city has not a population amounting to one-third of the population of Dublin; yet his class was twice or thrice as numerous as any that ever listened to him here. It exceeded three hundred, and frequently amounted to double that number. It is with regret and shame I advert to the contrast.

He lectured in Boston three evenings in the week; and in the alternate evenings he lectured at Harvard University, Cambridge, a short distance from Boston. In the mornings he delivered occasional lectures to

the Medical Faculty, on the structure and uses of the brain; and such was the interest and admiration he excited, that his time was in constant demand. Added to these continued engagements, a peculiarly changeable climate had an unfavorable influence on his constitution. Sudden changes exposed him to cold; and an incautious transition from a warm lecture-room to the evening air was attended with debilitating effects. This variety of causes brought on, at first, a slight indisposition, which, if it had been attended to, might have been easily checked. Regarding his illness of less consequence than the delivery of his lectures, he exerted himself for several days; when prudence required an entire cessation from labor. This was the fatal step. Cold produced fever; and this imprudence settled the fever in the system. He was averse to all active medical treatment from the beginning, and resorted to the simplest drinks and mildest remedies. He was confined to his room about fifteen days; in which time his disease assumed a more alarming aspect until the 10th of November. At eleven o'clock at night, the world was deprived of this extraordinary

man.

'The most skilful of the Medical Faculty in this city' (continues the able and benevolent writer, from whom I have borrowed those details) were unremitting in their attendance upon him; and we had two or three physicians with him constantly both day and night. The interest, the exertion, and the strong de

sire to save the life of so valuable a man, were deep and sincere in the hearts of his friends. All within the power and reach of feeble man was extended for his relief; but it was the will of Divine Providence that he should quit for ever the scene of his labor, love, and glory.

'His death has cast a gloom over our city. It is not lamented with the cold formality of the world. It produces grief of the most poignant character; and it is expressed in the deepest tones of human affliction. Although he had been with us but a few weeks, his virtues and worth were known and acknowledged. His amiable manners, his practical knowledge, his benevolent disposition and purposes, his active and discriminating mind, all engaged the good opinions even of the prejudiced, and won the affections of the candid and enlightened.'

On Saturday, the 17th of November, the last solemn offices were paid to this distinguished individual. Crowds attended him to his grave-no votary of science or lover of truth, in that enthusiastic metropolis, was absent eulogies were pronounced*—requiems were sung. His body, which had been embalmed, lies enclosed in a leaden coffin, in one of the vaults of the beautiful cemetery of Mount Auburn; and it is

* I regret that the eulogy delivered on this remarkable occasion by Dr. Follen, and of which report speaks so highly, has not yet reached this country. I should have been desirous to have incorporated, in my text, this splendid specimen of transatlantic eloquence.